


through the looking glass

by readfah_cwen



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, F/F, F/M, M/M, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/pseuds/readfah_cwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine believed. Blaine believed so much that he didn't doubt for a second that this guy making out with him was not his boyfriend. Why can't doppelgangers just stay in their parallel universes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. teasing thursday

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt over the kurt_blaine prompt meme -- also completely wacky, so please be warned.

Blaine's most embarrassing yearbook picture featured him in middle school with guyliner, pimples and a pentagram around his neck. It was a phase, okay? Everyone went through them, and if Blaine still curled up with  _Supernatural_  after a long day nobody needed to know. Blaine's parents were religious and sort of frowned on devil-worship, so it was a big fuck you to them.  
  
Or something.  
  
Really though, a combo of hot guys and monsters and magic should have been the only explanation anyone needed. Blaine had been corrupted at a young age by late night reruns of David Duchovny's charming mug and well, he believed.  
  
See Blaine knew, as well as he knew his own name and the location of every single Gap within a hundred mile radius that the supernatural and science fiction-type things really existed. Kurt found the whole thing kinda endearing, but Blaine knew Kurt also thought Blaine was kinda crazy.  
  
Bottom line, as was important to this moment? Blaine knew Kurt and he knew the unknown and he knew the guy currently shoving their tongue down his throat while groping his ass was not his boyfriend.  
  
"Whoa!" Blaine pulled back, coughing slightly. Never not appreciating air again, duly noted. "You're eager."  
  
"Blaine Anderson is kissing me with his hot bod all up against mine," not-Kurt purred, skeezing it up against the door frame like he wanted to mate with it. "Unexpected, but not something I'd turn down. Especially since Finn didn't want to join me in the shower." Not-Kurt pouted, looking confused. Blaine tasted his lips. Nope, no sulphur. That left a personality transplant or doppelgangers, and Blaine knew which he was favouring.  
  
Then not-Kurt was all over him again, hands down the back of Blaine's pants (thank god he hadn't gone commando today) and had slipped a thigh between Blaine's. Blaine pushed him off, a little distracted because sinister twin or not that was way hot, and tried to look casual while taking two large steps back. "Take a hint, I'm not in the mood."  
  
"Oh c'mon. I'll put you in the mood," not-Kurt said with a flutter of his lashes. His hair was parted the wrong way. Parallel universe?  
  
"And the award of World's Pushiest goes to ..." Blaine put on his best disappointed dad face. He kicked ass at it.  
  
Not-Kurt clasped his hands to his chest like a southern belle. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. How ever can I get you to forgive me?" Sarcastic-Kurt was funny. Sarcastic-not-Kurt made Blaine's fingers itch for some salt and holy water. Though -- doppelgangers. Shit, what had Martin Mystery said was the best way to deal with those when Diana met hers?  
  
All Blaine could remember was stupid internet porn jokes about how it was okay to have sex with your doppelganger as long as you killed them afterwards. Not helpful. It did make him laugh a little, and not-Kurt laughed back. He had an evil laugh.  
  
"You didn't slit my Kurt's throat after sex, did you?" And wow, really not what Blaine had meant to blurt. Especially when they were still in the entryway of Kurt's house and Blaine had half-shouted that and an elderly neighbour was frowning disapprovingly from next door. Awk-ward.  
  
"Your Kurt?" Not-Kurt waved at the neighbour but stepped back to let Blaine in. He looked more confused than sinister at the moment, but Blaine didn't care. You couldn't trust a soulless doppelganger or a ginger, everyone knew that -- jesus, if not-Kurt was from a parallel universe, just imagine what Ms Pillsbury would be like there. Shudders. "I'm starting to think things aren't quite right."  
  
"You said it." Blaine looked around the tastefully appointed living room for some kind of weapon. Where was Burt's shotgun? "What exactly did you do today, other than try to give Finn a back scrub?"  
  
"No, I tried to have sex with him. Duh." Not-Kurt rolled his eyes and Blaine rolled them back, carefully keeping many feet between them. The front door was still open, which gave him an escape route. Excellent. "But last thing I remember is falling into bed and thinking it felt a lot like I was actually falling, and waking up without Finn. Which sucked. And not in a good way. Good as in sexy." Blaine was starting to suspect that Kurt's evil twin had none of Kurt's wit. He did have a nipple ring though, a small bump against the thin silk of Kurt's shirt, which was -- well, yeah. Pretty awesome actually.

"When was the last time you got your bed checked for inter-dimensional portals?" Blaine asked. He really should have been doing these sort of checkups regularly with his Kurt, but when they were near Kurt's bed he didn't do a whole lot of thinking. Whoops.

"Anderson, you're being awfully nerdy --" not-Kurt stopped with a gasp. "I'm in another dimension? I can't miss school though! I wanted to make Karofsky lick my boots clean."

"Parallel universe and TMI." Blaine replied, thoughtfully glancing at the stairs. Then he paused. "That would make a cool bandname."

"Excuse me, can we get back to the whole parallel universe thing?" Not-Kurt looked around, panicked. "I bet I'm not even cool here, or something equally tragic. And I did notice a suspicious lack of leather pants, I'm probably a virgin. Oh god, tell me I'm not a virgin."

"Sorry." Blaine shrugged. "Well, at least I hope you are. Is it presumptuous to assume that your boyfriend who thinks touching fingertips is as sexy as it gets is a virgin?"

"Kill me now." Not-Kurt melodramatically threw himself down on the couch, hands covering his face. "A virgin. An uncool virgin in boring old jeans. Please tell me this is a nightmare."

"I like Kurt's jeans," Blaine defended hotly. They were a feature of many of his alone times after all. "And no, it isn't. I wish it was though. If you're here, that means Kurt's over there, and I'm not liking the sound of your evil parallel universe at all."

"It's not evil!" Not-Kurt defended. "Well actually," he tilted his head to the side in a way that would be adorable if it was Kurt but as was just came across as the most sinister of slants. "It kinda is. But a delicious evil, like chocolate-dipped strawberries and bondage. That was my sixteenth birthday party. I bet this loser virgin spent it alone."

"Can we stop making fun of Kurt?" Blaine was getting really annoyed with this guy. He wasn't just evil, he was irritating as hell. "Come on, you need to show me the bed. If the portal is still open, I'm taking you back home and rescuing Kurt from not-Finn's perverted clutches."

"Who would want to be rescued from those?" Not-Kurt asked saucily, writhing around on the living room couch like he was trying to seal the deal with a supposed duke. Oh great. Now Blaine was imagining Kurt in Satine's racy black lingerie, and the mental image both aroused and terrified him. Especially when not-Finn entered the picture in a tux. Where was the mind bleach when you needed it?

"I would have thought the proposal of a bed would have appealed to your horndog act." 

"Oh?" Not-Kurt sat up brightly then jumped to his feet, bouncing over to Blaine's side. "Does this mean you're going to let me score?" Not-Kurt's hands were up and under Blaine's shirt before he could blink, and he had to applaud his speediness. However, since not-Kurt was ... not Kurt, and there was a high risk that he would tear Blaine's heart out and eat it, Blaine grabbed not-Kurt's arms and yanked the wandering hands away.

"No," Blaine said as if to a bad puppy. Maybe the newspaper on the coffee table could be used as a weapon, in that case. "No touching, no groping, no fondling. We're just going to go in and out as quickly as we can."

"That's what I said," not-Kurt leered, and Blaine had to laugh. He had totally set himself up for that one.

"Okay, I'll give you that. But let's just get you home, alright?"

"Please do. Loser virgin doesn't even have strawberry lube, can you believe it?"

"Well, I always pictured him more as the cherry type, so ..."

xx

Blaine and not-Kurt were in Kurt's bedroom, not-Kurt lounging on the bed and fingering Kurt's furry throw and Blaine sitting at Kurt's desk giving into despair. He and Kurt should have been driving to school by this point, Kurt playing Texting Thursday by responding to everything Blaine said with a text that Blaine couldn't check until they were parked. Blaine liked to call it Teasing Thursday. Kurt said that sounded too sexy, but that was the point.

The bed wasn't a portal. At least, not anymore. He and not-Kurt had bounced on it until not-Kurt started to moan. Not-Kurt claimed that it was a Pavlovian reaction to the sound of a headboard banging off the wall, but Blaine was pretty sure not-Kurt, being evil, just wanted to fuck with him. Or fuck him. Or both.

Now, at a loss for anything else to do and Blaine trying to calm his freakout over what his poor Kurt was going through at the moment, they had started swapping stories. Not-Kurt quickly turned things sexual. Well, Blaine did first, by sharing one of his Kurt's-tight-jeans fantasies, but that was beside the point. Way beside.

"So right about this time I would be on my knees for Finn --" not-Kurt was cut off by Blaine's yelp.

"I like Kurt's mouth very much, stop trying to ruin it for me!" Blaine thought about it some more. "And ew, you kissed me, which means I gave Finn a blowjob by proxy."

"Feel blessed." Not-Kurt winked in the sleeziest of ways and Blaine picked up one of the pillows that had fallen off the bed and tossed it at him.

"God Anderson, way to be a brat --" not-Kurt grabbed his own pillow, but was cut off by Finn opening the door and poking his head in. "Oh hell- _o_ , my tall drink of water."

"Kurt, before school I wanna talk about what happened ear--" Finn cut himself off there, and Blaine worried if there was a monster eating the ends of sentences around. Then he realized that how to act around the guy who tried to get sexual with you and who was now with his boyfriend was probably not in Miss Manner's book on proper behaviour in social situations.

Hmm, not-Kurt and Finn getting sexual. Not-Kurt and not-Finn getting sexual. What had not-Kurt just said ...

"Finn! You need to let not-Kurt give you a blowjob!" Blaine really needed to check that blurting problem. Did they have doctors for that?

"Uh." Finn made a confused face, and Blaine barely resisted a call-the-presses joke. Finn had every right to look like that.

"Wow, you're really looking out for me!" Not-Kurt squealed, clapping his hands together in delight. "Funny, since my Anderson is a little bitch."

"Uh."

"No, I meant, just act like you would. Not-Kurt, where would your knees be about now?" Blaine jumped to his feet, yanking not-Kurt to his and rushing to the door, where Finn looked twice as wooden as he stared in shock.

"Firmly planted on Finn's bedroom floor," not-Kurt answered, while pawing at Finn's biceps excitedly. Finn began to back away but Blaine and not-Kurt followed, each grabbing hold of one of Finn's arm and beginning to yank him down the hall.

"Excellent. Finn, we need to open a portal to save Kurt, and we can't do that if you just stand there!" Despite the obvious math of small Blaine plus small not-Kurt equalling more than big Finn, they couldn't seem to get the lunk to move.

"Save Kurt?" Finn perked up at that. "But he's right there.

"This is not Kurt. I call him not-Kurt. He's from a parallel dimension."

"Like in  _Futurama_ , when they come to the end of their universe and on the other side is them in cowboy hats?" Finn squinted in thought, and Blaine rewarded him with a smile. Finn started to move, letting them drag him down the hall.

"Exactly. Except, no cowboys."

"I once wore assless chaps to school," Kurt commented, wiggling his rear. "With nothing but a thong underneath."

"There is no way that's Kurt," Finn agreed, as they stood outside his bedroom door. Blaine ushered them in, not-Kurt pouting that he was all Kurt, all over and Finn trying to hide behind Blaine, which didn't really work but was hella cute.

"Okay not-Kurt, assume the position," Blaine ordered, backing off a little to give them space. Finn winced as not-Kurt shut the door with a click and pushed him up against it.

"So, uh, my pants will stay on, right?" Finn asked nervously, as not-Kurt kneeled and made an obscene gesture with his tongue at Finn's crotch. "I mean, I'm all for helping my brother from another mother, but I'm not really comfortable with this." 

Blaine would have put a stop to all this, because not-Kurt was so very predatory gay, but his Kurt was in danger and sacrifices needed to be made.

"Yes, your pants will stay on." Blaine promised, stepping closer so he could grab not-Kurt's hair when it looked like he was about to dive at Finn's crotch. Not-Kurt moaned under the hold but Blaine nobly didn't let go, his other hand coming up to pat Finn's arm comfortingly. 

Not-Kurt reached out at the same time, sliding a hand behind Finn's knee, and when they were all touching a spark seemed to zing around them. And not, to borrow a not-Kurtism, in a good way, as in a sexy way. Blaine's stomach lurched, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Sudden darkness. They were falling, further

and further

and further

and further.


	2. you drive me crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is some mild Blaine/Tina in this chapter, due to that wacky parallel universe thing.

There was a sensation, like they should have been slamming to the ground, but they had never left it. When Blaine reopened his eyes, they were still in Finn's bedroom -- or at least it seemed that way at first glance. At second glance? One hundred percent not-Finn, and Blaine sorta wished he had never taken that second glance.There were pictures of guys with tight abs all over the walls instead of bikini-clad supermodels, and there was, disturbingly enough, a shrine to not-Kurt in the corner. A really pathetic shrine, Blaine could've done way better.

"It actually worked!" Not-Kurt said excitedly, jumping to his feet. "Seriously, I just played along to get into Finn's pants, but it worked!"

"Dude, we're totally in another universe!" Finn shouted, punching not-Kurt's shoulder in a friendly way. Blaine made a note to lay down the ground rules about not touching not-Kurt unless absolutely necessary, for fear of catching evil or encouraging his lustful cravings.

"Good job team." Blaine made thumbs-up for all. "That's only phase one though. Now we need to find Kurt."

"Look at the clock." Not-Kurt pointed to the clock, shaped like the Tazmanian Devil -- how appropriate. The devil thing, not the tazmanian part. Unless Finn was Tasmanian in this verse. Who knew -- oh yeah, the clock. It had been just before school back home, but here it was around lunch. "Either we took way long to get here, or my world is a few hours ahead of yours. Like countries, but across portals."

"Countries have different times?" Finn asked.

"You're lucky you're so cute." Not-Kurt gave Finn a pat to the butt, who smiled until he worked out what not-Kurt had said. Blaine ignored them, instead pushing past in order to yank open the door and dart out into the hall.

He ran to not-Kurt's room, but _Disappointment, Blaine -- Evil Parallel Universe_ because Kurt wasn't there. There was a dildo masquerading as a bracelet holder on the desk though, and erotic photography on the walls, so Blaine couldn't blame Kurt for not hanging around. Still, where could he have gone? Kurt wasn't dumb, and the same way Blaine only took a kiss to realize that Kurt wasn't Kurt it would only take Kurt one look at his wardrobe to realize something was off.

"Hey Anderson, how much would I have to pay you to get you into those pants?" Not-Kurt asked from the doorway, wiggling his brows at Blaine, who was holding up a pair of leather pants that laced up the side. See? Sinister wardrobe.

"Hell of a lot," Blaine replied with a shudder, tossing the pants onto the silk-sheeted bed. Behind not-Kurt, Finn was looking around with wide eyes and touching a wall.

"Wow, this is a parallel wall. A parawall." Finn grinned. "Holy Cheesus, this is so cool!"

Not-Kurt ignored him, sauntering over to the bed and taking a seat. "You know Anderson, you're nerdy enough to know that all great quests need a guide, right?"

"Well of course. I was going to see a wizard about one."

"Yes, and now that I'm home, I don't need you anymore. But you need me."

"You want to guide me?" Blaine raised a brow in disbelief. He doubted not-Kurt was very charitable, so there must be something behind this.

"To a bed? Hell yes. But around town? Not really. I couldn't care less what happens to you ... but if you paid me, I would." Not-Kurt pointedly picked up the leather pants, and Blaine winced. "Or should I say, this would be me paying you a _hell of a lot_ with my services?" Another leer. It seemed that was all not-Kurt did.

"I can't." Blaine looked at the pants. "Like I literally can't, those are probably two sizes too small. My legs would fall off."

"Sacrifices, man." Finn joined them by the bed, placing a solid hand of camraderie on Blaine's shoulder. "I did the blowjob thing, you have to do this. For Kurt."

"See? Listen to my boy." Not-Kurt held the pants out to Blaine. "For Kurt."

"And they have laces. You could just, ya know, loosen them," Finn said in what he probably thought was a helpful way. It made Blaine want to strangle him with the pants. However, they were both right. Blaine didn't want to get himself killed by navigating an evil universe all by himself with Finn slowing him down, and he needed to save Kurt. He couldn't do that dead, especially since he had taken steps years ago to ensure he didn't come back as a zombie or a ghost.

"Alright." Blaine grabbed the pants and stalked toward the bathroom. "But you will guide us and keep us safe, and not watch me while I change."

"Sounds fair." Not-Kurt sighed.

"I'm proud of you!" Finn declared as Blaine shut the bathroom door on them.

From there he spent a solid five minutes wriggling into the pants. Finn was right about the laces, but it just revealed more skin down the sides of his legs and Blaine was aware of his dudeness that meant he didn't shave his calves. Or thighs. Or anything else below the chin, which proved awkward when the pants sat very low on his hips. The only small favours in this pantsapocalypse were that the pants were too long in the leg so they didn't cling too much and he wasn't flashing anyone.

Blaine checked himself out in the mirrored shower door when he was done, and decided he looked ridiculous. Especially since he was wearing a cardigan on top. Like he was half leather bar, half librarian. Blaine couldn't, in good conscience, save Kurt in such a mismatched outfit, so when he walked out of the bathroom the first thing he said was, "I need a shirt to go with this."

While Finn laughed his ass off and after not-Kurt "adjusted" the pants (a.k.a. copped a feel), the world's most evil of twins darted to his closet and came out bearing a bondage shirt. One that Blaine was pretty certain his Kurt owned, actually. Maybe that was why he found it sort of nice looking, with grey studded panels on the front and long straps crossing the front and ending at buckles on the arms.

"Try this babe," not-Kurt said, draping the shirt over the back of his desk chair and helpfully pulling Blaine's cardigan off. Blaine took care of his shirt and then not-Kurt helped him put on and zip up the bondage shirt.

Once fashion hour was over, Finn took some pictures with his cell, still laughing. "I don't have any bars," Finn reported. "I was totally going to send this to Kurt." No service? As if this day couldn't get any worse. Now Blaine wouldn't be able to check his Facebook or Twitter.

And oh yeah, he was wearing an outift that would've made even his middle school self hang his head in shame. Finn was still chuckling and not-Kurt kept ghosting his hand over Blaine's ass -- Blaine chose to take that as a compliment, a small light in the darkness.

"Let's just get to McKinley okay?" Blaine said grumpily, awkwardly tugging at the pants. "Kurt would head somewhere familiar."

"My car's still in the driveway," not-Kurt reported after peeking out the window. “Either he walked, or Finn gave him a ride.”

“I'm hoping for the first one, personally.” Finn said. “I don’t want some other-me feeling Kurt up without his permission.”

“That you don’t believe Kurt would consent is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Blaine said approvingly, raising his fist for a brofist. Finn left him hanging for a moment before he bumped fists, and Blaine beamed.

“And you think my universe is weird.” Not-Kurt sniffed. “Can we leave before I get jealous of your bromance?”

“Okay, okay.”

They clattered downstairs to the living room, and the first thing Blaine noticed was that the family picture on the wall was different. Carole, Finn and Kurt were all in it, but Burt wasn't. Instead there was a pretty blonde woman with her arm around Carole. "Who's that?"

“Frida Kahlo?”

“Not the print, the family picture. The blonde.”

"That's my mom," not-Kurt replied, smiling fondly. "She remarried last year, with Carole. Which was awesome, since Carole's great and it made sleepovers for Finn and me way easier."

"So Burt's dead?" Finn asked sadly. Blaine made a sympathetic face. Emphatic? It _was_ sad.

"Yeah." Not-Kurt was showing some emotion that was impossible to construe as evil, for once. His eyes were big and sad and he pointed to a picture of Burt, further along down the wall. "He died of a heart attack when I was really young. Mom was really torn up about it, especially since she realized she was a lesbian not long before."

"This really is an parallel verse." Blaine said, but Finn nudged him.

"I don't know, maybe Kurt's mom really was a lesbian when she was alive. We'll have to ask him." Finn was so stupidly sincere it made Blaine wince.

Not-Kurt blinked. "Mom's dead?"

Blaine didn't want the heartbreaking job of answering that question, so he did what he did best: avoidance. "Finn, is your mother bisexual or gay?"

"I don't think so?" Finn replied.

"Then we'll leave it at the sexuality-changing powers of the alt-verse. After all, you're dating Kurt over here, right?" Blaine looked to not-Kurt who shook off his sadness and began to lead them toward the front door.

"I wouldn't call it dating, more like lots of hot, semi-incestuous monkey sex all over the place," not-Kurt said with a disturbing thrusting motion of his hips as he opened the front door "But yeah, Finn's gay, mom and Carole are gay, and you, Anderson, are one hundred percent straight."

"I am?" Blaine thoughtfully played with one of the straps on his shirt, looking around the outside -- not that much different than the outside back home. "How do you know?"

"Because before today, I never got within two feet of your ass." Not-Kurt fell back so he could emphasize this with a pinch to said ass, and Blaine yelped and jumped away. "Also, he's dating Tina."

"Hey man, have you been letting this Kurt get at your ass? 'Cause I think that still counts as cheating on our Kurt." Finn said, in an internationally recognized Protective Older Brother voice. Except Finn was younger than Kurt -- or maybe he wasn't. Blaine had given up on figuring that one out; instead he shot Finn a look as they reached the Corvette parked in the driveway.

"No, he keeps cockblocking me." Not-Kurt pretended to brush his tears away, opening the car door. Which was unlocked, confirming Blaine's suspicions about not-Kurt's intelligence.

"And I'll keep on doing it." Blaine said, and he had to admit that he was rather triumphant that he had managed to overcome teenage hormones and not let Kurt's doppelgänger get hot and heavy with him. "Hey, you know I always figured if I was straight I would date Rachel."

"Rachel? She's boning Mr Schue, everyone knows that."

Finn and Blaine froze outside the car, gaping at not-Kurt as he disappeared inside. "What?!"

xx

The drive to McKinley was long and tense, Finn and Blaine getting enough shocks to make it seem like a defibrillator was hooked up to them. Or something. Blaine would have to think about that one. Point was, not-New Directions (no really, their name was Nude Erections, which violated so many show choir rules, seriously) had even worse relationship drama than New Directions. If that didn’t convince people that the unknown was a powerful and sinister force, nothing could.

“McKinley looks the same.” Finn said, peering out the window. Blaine shook his head solemnly.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances -- this McKinley is a pit of the most evil and treacherous, demonic doppelgängers, a haven for sin and inappropriate sexual relations.”

“You sound like a voice over.” Not-Kurt said with a snicker. “Any- _ways_ , you’re not allowed to complain about inappropriate sexual relations if you won’t get inappropriate with me.”

“Sounds fair,” Blaine snarked and got an elbow to the side of his troubles. While not-Kurt was still driving, so he swerved and nearly hit a kid. “Watch it!” Blaine shouted while Finn made a warning noise from the backseat.

“Watch my ass!” Not-Kurt shrieked back, pulling into a spot with a screech of tires and barely an inch between his door and the next car over. “No seriously, watch it while I climb all over you. It’s a great ass, you better appreciate it.”

“I’ll write a book about it,” Blaine hissed, but as not-Kurt unbuckled and began to straddle his way over Blaine’s lap, he did watch. Not-Kurt had the same body as Kurt, right, so it was just the same as checking out Kurt’s pert behind. Exact same.

“Couldn’t Blaine have gotten out first?” Finn questioned but Blaine and not-Kurt ignored him, not-Kurt popping open the door and sliding out, followed by Blaine. Finn joined them a second later, squinting up at the sun. Not-Kurt began to stride away from the car and Blaine jogged to catch up with him.

“Aren’t you going to lock your car?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah dude, it’s pretty nice.”

“Nobody would dare steal my car.” Not-Kurt snorted. “Nude Erections rule the school, and we don’t let anybody step out of line.”

“Awesome, I’m still popular here!” Finn grinned.

“Yes, but less than me.” Not-Kurt shot Finn a sympathetic glance. “You still play football, even though the team is so bad it ruins your rep.”

“I kinda liked this world just for that,” Blaine remarked. “Until I remember that Dalton has a cool glee club without being freaky about it.”

“Dalton sucks, and never say otherwise.” Not-Kurt stopped just outside the entrance to McKinley, pulling them aside. “After Tina pretended to be a boy to get in and seduced you over to Nude Erections, you made a law that nobody was allowed to talk about Dalton because you hated being reminded of your days without, and I quote, ‘Lotsof of T&A all over the place, up in my face.’”

“I sound like a white rapper.”

“Naw, you sound white and nerdy.”

“Be quiet Finn, I’m always cool.”

“For some reason, people agree with that,” not-Kurt said with a shudder of disgust. “I don’t think he’s cool at all, but he’s so charming it’s hard to convince people otherwise. Being one of our best voices and dating Queen Bee Tina helps too.”

“Speak of the devil ...” Blaine trailed off, staring at not-Tina across the parking lot in shock. “Oh my, what happened to her hair? What is she wearing?”

“Where’s her individualness?” Finn asked, staring at not-Tina too. She was dressed in a miniskirt and floaty top, hair bleached blonde and a bejeweled cellphone up against her ear. 

“She used ot be goth, but I gave her a makeover when she joined Nude Erections. You like?” Not-Kurt asked, and Blaine stepped away from his evil, evil self. This was more depressing than the Burt thing. Not-Kurt had sucked not-Tina’s soul.

“No I don’t like.” Before Blaine could elaborate not-Tina spotted him and began to stride toward them in spiked heels. “Hey,” Blaine said weakly in greeting, and instead of a reply not-Tina slapped his face. Then grabbed him down into a searing kiss, not all that different from not-Kurt’s welcome kiss. She even groped his ass. 

“Blaine, you drive me so crazy." Not-Tina snarled when they parted, cheeks flushed. "I heard you cheated on me with Quinn, but you’re still mine and you better not forget it.” Blaine stared at her, dazed. “So I’m singing a Britney song today to you in glee. You Drive Me Crazy. And you’re going to love it, understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Blaine replied, cowed. With a killer smirk and wiggle of her hips she turned around and stalked off, disappearing into the school. Blaine turned to his companions, a rather stunned Finn and bored not-Kurt. “I could _taste_ her lack of soul.”

“Fascinating,” not-Kurt examined his nails. The bell rang. “That’s the end of lunch. I have English right now, but why would your Kurt go? _I_ don't even attend half my classes.”

“Our Kurt doesn’t miss class,” Finn pointed out.

“Finn’s right, it’s worth a try.” Blaine headed to the entrance, not-Kurt and Finn following. Blaine’s whole body was thrumming, but not in a “bees have taken over my blood” kind of way, but more like he could feel Kurt. His boyfriend was nearby, and Blaine wouldn’t stop until he found him.


	3. kiss with a fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some Finn/Kurt, alternate universe style. mild physical violence.

Kurt was not in English, so Blaine took a moment to curl up in the corner of the boy’s bathroom and rock back and forth. It seemed like it was all catching up with him. Blaine remembered how it felt when Kurt went back to McKinley, before Blaine followed. This was so much worse. Normal people lost remotes in couches -- Blaine lost his boyfriend to a parallel universe. How was that fair?

“Hey buddy ... you gonna be okay?” Finn was awkwardly patting Blaine’s back, and Blaine looked up from his trembling hands.

“I just need Kurt.”

“Hey guys,” not-Kurt said from the doorway, where he was peeking outside. “Artie’s walking this way.”

“Well that’s rude,” Blaine said with a sniff, but allowed Finn to pull him to his feet.

“Yeah man, Artie doesn’t really walk,” Finn added as he and Blaine walked over to not-Kurt’s side.

“You’re right, it’s more like he glides. All that ballet I think.” Not-Kurt shrugged, opening the door all the way. “Remember Blaine, white and nerdy straight guy, Finn, all over me. Don’t be afraid to touch.” He threw a wink back at Finn, who nodded slowly back. They stepped out in the hall, and Blaine and Finn promptly made simultaneous noises of shock. Not-Artie was walking. Actually walking.

“Yo.” Not-Artie said when he was closer.

“Yo.” Blaine replied, still stunned. Finn didn’t even say anything, eyes wide.

“Hello Artimus Prime.” Not-Kurt flirtily cocked a hip to the side. Not-Artie tipped his glasses down in an impressively smooth move Blaine liked to practice with sunglasses. 

“You guys weren’t having a threesome in there, right? Tina’s mad enough about Quinn and Blaine.” Not-Artie also had a kick-ass disappointed dad face.

“No I like girls.” Blaine said, a little stiffly. “Girls ... with curls. I’m one hundred percent straight. Girl booty all up in my face. Straight as an arrow flying straight, straight through hearts. Girl hearts.”

“Well sure, why not?” Not-Kurt sighed, throwing his arms in the air.

“Blaine, my homie, I thought we already established you can’t lie.” Not-Artie chuckled, before growing all serious again. “But Tina deserves your respect, and by cheating on her, even if the plumbing is different, you’re saying you don’t respect her. So check yourself before you wreck yourself.” At the end of that Blaine felt approximately two inches tall. What a load of suck. He hadn’t even done anything!

“You’re such a good guy Artimus. Want a reward?” Not-Kurt seductively stepped up into Artie’s personal space. Judging by the look on Artie’s face, this was more friendly banter than serious flirting.

“A trophy would be cool.” Not-Artie replied, and as their back-and-forth continued Blaine felt Finn lean down and whisper in his ear.

“How do you describe something that’s really nice but in a sad way?”

Blaine turned (and accidentally brushed his lips against Finn’s, but they were going to pretend that hadn’t happened) and whispered back. “Bittersweet?”

“Yeah. This is that.” Finn looked like a kicked puppy and Blaine sighed in agreement. His attention was returned to not-Kurt and -Artie’s conversation when not-Kurt asked about Kurt.

“So have you seen me around? Like, me if I was a prude?” Not-Kurt asked this so casually it almost made up for the sheer weirdness of the question.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Not-Artie’s brow wrinkled.

“Notice how Anderson’s in leather and bondage instead of gangsta-chic?” Blaine looked down at his outfit as not-Kurt spoke, and wow, like he needed a reminder about that.

“They look like your clothes, so I just assumed --” 

“No.” Not-Kurt said with a haughty sniff. “I don’t share clothes. See, Quinn practiced some of her black magic and instead of just looking crazy it worked. She sucked all of the kinky fun from me and spat it into Blaine, hence the threesome and the cheating and the clothes. My body couldn’t handle not being the hottest action on the block and split into two. So there’s me, amazing as ever, and prude-me, who doesn’t want to bone Finn and probably just called you Artie.”

“I don’t believe that story at all.” Not-Artie said, poker-faced, then grinned. “But you put so much effort into it I’ll play along. Yeah, I saw ‘prude-you’ earlier. He got all surprised when he saw me, then asked me to not tell Finn I had seen him.”

“When was this?” Blaine asked.

“Between first and second period.” Not-Artie shrugged. “Hope that helps your weird sex game, but I gotta run. Ms Avery will get suspicious if I take this long going to the bathroom.”

“Thanks Artimus.” Not-Kurt gave him a shoulder pat as he passed.

"Home slice." Not-Artie held up a fist to Blaine.

"Home skittle." Blaine returned the fist bump. 

Not-Artie only nodded at Finn, and Blaine had to wonder what not-Finn was like.

When they were alone, not-Kurt spun to face Blaine and Finn with a frustrated sigh. “Seems like he’s still at school, but where? You two know him best, where would he be?”

Blaine and Finn looked at each other. “The choir room.”

xx

The choir room was empty. Or at least, it would have been, if there wasn’t a hulking figure peering out the window in the corner, shoulders hunched. From the size alone Blaine guessed it was not-Finn, and before they were noticed Blaine shoved Finn so he fell over behind the piano. 

"Hey!" Finn shouted as he went down, and not-Finn turned around. A brilliant smile crossed his face at the sight of not-Kurt, and Blaine relaxed a little. This Finn was in leather to match Blaine's own, minus the lace-up sides (Blaine burned with jealousy) and a tight black t-shirt, but otherwise he seemed pretty normal.

"Kurt!" Not-Finn bounced over to them, and Blaine had to admit those leather pants looked good, especially compared to the saggy jeans that Finn normally sported. Speaking of which, those jeans were all Blaine could see of Finn because he had thankfully gotten a clue and was belly-shuffling underneath the piano. Brad wouldn't be happy, unless not-Brad actually liked students.

"Finn! Darling! Sweetie!" Not-Kurt squealed, throwing his arms around Not-Finn's neck. Blaine smiled, because they looked likea sweet couple, if nauseatingly so. Was it wrong to like the idea of his boyfriend's parallel universe twin and step-brothers boyfriend having, to quote another not-Kurtism, hot semi-incestuous monkey sex? Did this make Blaine a pervert? 

Whatever. He already kinda was. Just don't tell Kurt.

"I just wanna say: hummingbird. Hummingbird." Not-Finn whispered into not-Kurt's hair, and not-Kurt stroked his neck in return. Blaine backed off so he was leaning against the piano and out the way of their cuddling reunion, and also helpfully blocked Finn's giant feet as they stuck out from under the piano. Finn definitely was one of those kids who always lost at hide and go seek.

"Our safe word? Why?"

"I thought it was a game, the way you were messing with me. You didn't fuck me in the shower, you walked to school and you locked yourself in a dumpster just to avoid me!" Not-Finn sniffed sadly, then sniffed again. "Good job cleaning up by the way, you smell great."

"Did I do that?" Not-Kurt sighed sadly. "I guess I was high. Or drunk. Or high and drunk. Dark magic? Alien mind control technology. There's a whole list of possible reasons, but you don't need to see any of those."

"No, I don't." Not-Finn stepped back, and stuck a hand into his back pocket. "Listen. I know this is sudden, and we're so young, but I'm not thinking about the haters. All I'm thinking is about how much I love you, how much I always want to live down the hall from you." Not-Finn sank down to one knee. "I guess what I'm trying to say is--" he whipped out a velvet box "--will you marry me, Kurt?" He popped open the box to reveal a dinky ring, and Blaine rolled his eyes. 

Evil twin or not, there was no way any form of Kurt would go for a proposal like that. Blaine had signed a contract on their two-week anniversary stating that all future proposals would happen under a full moon many years from now, with Kurt's full knowledge in advance so he could plan the proper outfit. 

"Yes, yes, yes!" Not-Kurt flung himself down onto not-Finn, peppering his face with kisses. "Oh, I've been waiting for you to propose since you first tied me to my headboard."

"Holy shit!" Finn shouted, and not-Finn and -Kurt turned to stare at Blaine, who coughed. 

"Uh. Yes, holy shit," Blaine said, and tried to combine his and not-Artie's disappointed dad faces for this bit. "First off, not-Finn's right, you're way too young. Second off, do you even get along without sex? And thirdly, that proposal was so bad, I think Kurt's inner wedding planner just packed its bags and moved off to Paris."

"He may be booking a flight," not-Kurt hissed. "But I go crazy without someone to come home to and bone. Seriously. I end up singing duets with my dildo. And you can't do that Anderson, you just can't. _Dildos can't sing._ "

"I'll buy you a phallicly-shaped voice recorder and sing into it. But please, wait on this. Maybe you and he will get married some day. If you really love each other and have faith in your relationship, you won't have to worry about him leaving you sexless and alone."

Not-Kurt eyes got very big as he stared at Blaine. Uh-oh. That was Kurt's swooning and mooning look.

"Screw you Anderson!" Not-Finn shouted. "Since when do you wear my boyfriend's clothes and not talk like Eminem? Huh? What the fuck is up with that bro?" Not-Finn rose to his feet, pushing not-Kurt aside and then advanced on Blaine in a really menacing way. Really menacing. Blaine crouched a little to put a hand on his nervously knocking knees. "Come on, we need to talk."

"Finn, lay off. He's about as dangerous as a pomeranian! Look at him, he's the size of one!" Not-Kurt yelped as not-Finn grabbed Blaine's arm and started to drag him toward the door. 

Blaine gaped, scandalized. 

Not-Finn spun towards not-Kurt and glared. "A pomeranian ... once bit me."

Seeing as how all small dogs were hellhounds in training, Blaine could see why this excellent point blew not-Kurt away, and understood why he didn't say anything else as not-Finn pulled Blaine from the room. After they exited the choir room they didn't go far; not-Finn simply pushed Blaine into the dip between lockers.

"I'm not cheating with not-Kurt," Blaine said in his best soothing-therapist tone, hands held up in his most non-confrontational way. Seven out of ten bullies thought it worked great.

"Don't try to double-negative your way out of this!" Not-Finn shouted, but he didn't look very mad. Then he dropped his voice to a murmur. "I don't care if you are, though it would be weird. Listen, I know you hate Kurt just as much I do." Blaine thought he heard something behind not-Finn but past the guy's giant shoulders and giant announcement, he couldn't be sure.

"You just proposed to him." Blaine was baffled. He didn't like it very much. He was used to understanding people, and this was so left field it came from the right.

"No, Karofsky paid me to seduce him and break his heart on his wedding night. But I got my eye on someone else, and I don't have time to wait until we're all old and stuff to get married. So I need you to not change his mind about this, so me and Sam can roleplay that I'm the washerwoman and his abs are my washboard."

"So you're just using him. Using and abusing?" Blaine stared up at not-Finn, mind in turmoil. Not-Kurt was sinister to a degree that couldn't be qualified, least of all because he made fun of Kurt's tight jeans -- but not-Finn was maybe the most evil of them all. You didn't solve evil with more evil. Everyone knew that. That was why Harry never sent anything worse than a stunning spell. Honestly.

"Sounds fun, right?" Not-Finn grinned, all teeth -- and Blaine punched them, promptly splitting open his fist and making it hurt like a mother. Finn fell back, swearing loudly, mouth red.

"Fuck!"

"That never looks painful in the movies," Blaine hissed, teeth clenched as he cradled his hand. Then he remembered that, as he was now a badass, he had to follow through with a witty one-liner. "Stay the hell away from Kurt. That punch was only thirty percent of my power, but it's a hundred percent reason to remember the name, got that?"

"Ow." Not-Finn blinked watery eyes.

"Well, was that Eminem enough for you?" Blaine dusted off his hands then winced. Next stop: nurse's office.

"Uh, I actually think that's Fort Minor--" Blaine raised his fist again and not-Finn whimpered. "Alright. Fine. But you get to tell Karofsky the deal is off, and you gotta pay me what he won't."

Blaine smirked slowly. "Oh don't worry. I'll give you my credit card and any of the pinfo you need."

"Thanks!" Not-Finn grinned then winced, and Blaine pretended to dust his hands off again so he could high-five himself. He was so good. 

Not-Finn left to go check his injury out in the washroom, and Blaine walked with a swagger back to the choir room. He was in the middle of a fantasy where he told Kurt that he had managed to kick Finn's ass when he walked back into the room and saw not-Kurt and Finn facing off against someone in baggy gangsta-chic. Their eyes met, and Blaine felt a shock go through him.

No way.

No freakin' way. 


	4. bait and switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so begins the Brittany/Quinn, alternate universe style.

It was not-Santana -- and she was wearing not-Blaine's style. 

"That's supposed to be my look," Blaine said, in what most definitely wasn't a whine. More like a ... possessive growl. Not a possessed growl though. That would require holy water and Finn, not-Kurt and not-Santana didn't seem the type to carry it around. Not-Santana apparently _was_ the type to steal people's looks though, and Blaine had to stand up for his twin (though the guy was evil and an adulterer.) 

"I just thought ..." Not-Santana trailed off, fidgeting with the oversized shirt. "You said you wanted a girl who was into what you were into, so ..." she turned bright red, biting her lip. "Istolethisfromyourhouse."

"Robitussin," Blaine said, bemused.

"What?"

"No trippy cough medicine for you guys, huh?" Blaine saw the blank looks he was getting (Finn included, of course) and sighed. "Never mind. Just, repeat that last bit?"

"'No trippy cou--" Not-Kurt parroted. There was an ugly look in his eyes that Blaine didn't really understand. Maybe not-Kurt was the one who was possessed -- he hadn't been acting like this before ... before not-Finn dragged Blaine out. Maybe he was angry about that?

"No, what not-Santana said."

"I haven't talked though," Finn replied anxiously.

"What?"

"Well I'm not Santana. That Kurt isn't either, actually. Were you talking about him? He hasn't said anything either."

"Have you even been paying attention?" Blaine made a frustrated hand motion, one very similar to what theater nerds would call Milking the Giant Invisible Cow. "Honestly. No. Just. Santana, what did you say together very fast at the end there?"

"Oh." Not-Santana looked frightened by ... everything. "I -- I stole these clothes from your house. Please don't be mad!"

"She's like that pepper chick," Finn commented, and Blaine decided that Finn probably was tripping on cough medicine.

"She's a stalker. A stalker with a crush." Not-Kurt tossed his head back. The move didn't really work without a full head of hair. "Pathetic. You wanna know her theme song?"

Not-Santana whimpered, curling even further into her -- not-Blaine's clothes. Blaine rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

Not-Kurt began to sing. His voice was one of the few unchanged things in this whole verse. "Santa Stalker is coming to town, she sees when you're sleeping, she knows when you're awake --"

Santana muttered something and not-Kurt stopped, turning icy eyes on her. "What the hell was that, Santa?"

Santana didn't look like she was going to answer, but then she met Blaine's eyes and squared her shoulders. "I said, you're very mean Kurt." Finn made a noise of agreement and not-Kurt glared between them.

"DUH!" Not-Kurt shouted. "I'm mean! I'm unlovable! It's not news, sweetheart! Everybody knows it! Just like they know you're a loser with no game."

"I've slept with every guy in this school!" Santana squeaked. "Except for the three in this room." The last part was very quiet.

"SECOND NEWSFLASH. SEX DOESN'T MEAN I LOVE YOU!"

"He's really mad," Finn whispered in Blaine's ear as Santana began to cry. "He's been like that since he followed you and other-me out. I got stuck under the piano or I woulda followed too, by the way." Not-Kurt was still yelling about sex and commitment and Blaine noticed the ring was nowhere in sight. Oh shit, had not-Kurt been the noise Blaine heard when not-Finn was spilling his secrets? 

"I'M SORRY OKAY!" Santana wiped her snotty nose all over not-Blaine's shirt sleeve (Blaine experienced phantom shivers of disgust, possibly through a strange mental connection to his evil or twin, that needed more research) and stared at Blaine with watery eyes. "I'm sorry for thinking I was ever worth anything to you or anybody else."

She ran out crying. Finn shifted uncomfortably, as was his standby during emotional situations, and Blaine glanced between the door and not-Kurt, who looked shattered. Who needed his excellent comforting skills more?

In the end, Blaine went with his guide. It wasn't entirely selfish. After all, this was the only way they could save Kurt.

"Did you hear what not-Finn said? Out in the hall?" Blaine asked tentatively, placing a hand on not-Kurt's shoulder. Not-Kurt immediately threw himself into Blaine's arms, sobbing loudly -- with no real tears, but perhaps this Kurt actually was part porcelain. 

"Y-yes!" Not-Kurt wailed. Blaine couldn't actually hug him, because of the bondage straps, and not-Kurt was hanging onto them for dear life. Blaine glanced at Finn, who shrugged and mouthed _is he really crying?_ Blaine mouthed, _idek mb_ back. Nobody had time to fully form words anymore. "What an asshole! Just using me for sex and money! I mean I was using him for the same things, but --" not-Kurt burst into another round of dry sobs. "But he was the only one I stayed with. And now I'll need to sing into my dildo like some miserable old cat lady."

"Are dildos, like, a type of cat? 'Cause I thought they were --"

"Not now Finn." Blaine shook his head at the lunk then patted not-Kurt's arms. "And didn't I promise you a phallic voice recorder? You don't need him. You don't need any man."

"You did." Not-Kurt looked up at Blaine slowly. "Thank you. But I might need one man ..." he straightened, and before Blaine could move away their lips met in a kiss.

xx

The nurse's office was suspiciously absent of an actual nurse, and Blaine made a note that if he had time after finding Kurt he should check the basement waterway for a mutated swim team. Not-Kurt was lying face down on the bed, a bag of ice perched precariously on his rear and Finn was hovering protectively over him. Blaine had another bag of ice against his sore fist.

"I can't believe you pushed me over a kiss." Not-Kurt said, scowling at Blaine. He didn't look very swoony or moony any more, but Blaine couldn't bring himself to celebrate resorting to violence to achieve that.

"Sorry." Blaine hesitated. How could he explain that he was way scared that this would turn into a Harlequin ... In Space! type deal, with him falling for his boyfriend's doppelgänger? That he was still riding high on the swagger of defeating not-Finn? That he was apparently a violent jerk deep down? Wow. Angst. "Gay advances make me uncomfortable," was what he settled on.

"You're out and proud!" Not-Kurt pointed out.

"Channelling my evil twin."

"That's ..." Not-Kurt paused. "Pretty plausible, actually."

"Thank you."

"I would have stopped him," Finn promised. To not-Kurt, because he was apparently unsympathetic to Blaine's fauxcuses. "I guess I never thought someone that little would be able to push anyone over."

"I am not that short!" Blaine screeched. That was twice in one day, far more than he was used to receiving since the Warblers had a law in the handbook that you couldn't mock people's physical attributes. It may or may not have been amended with height especially since Blaine joined. "I am of average height! You're just a giant! A big, freaky giant! You're like Jared Padelecki's goddamn baby! So shut up!"

Finn stared. "What's a Padalecki?"

"I think he's cracking even more." Not-Kurt said with a wince as he shifted on the bed. "We need to find him his cuddle-bear so they can be disgustingly in love a whole other fucking parallel universe away from me."

"You haven't even seen him and me interact," Blaine pointed out hotly. Finn was snickering in a way that meant Blaine and Kurt were each others cuddle-bears to a disgusting degree, but Blaine chose to dismiss it as he did all things that brought light to his flaws. Unless Kurt was the one shining the light. Then Blaine would bend over backwards to fix things. "Okay, maybe we are. You still wouldn't know."

"I can just tell." Not-Kurt said shortly. "Disgusting."

"Whatever." Blaine rolled his eyes. "First we need to find Kurt, and settle some things. How did not-Santana know where we were?"

"She helped me out from the piano and said she bumped into Artimus while getting a drink," Finn explained. Blaine wrinkled his nose. Goodness gracious, Finn was becoming not-like. (Though Artimus was a cool nickname.) Blaine would have to keep an eye out for leather pants and a penchant for sexing it up with people for money, and hope Finn never genuinely wanted to be a prostitute.

"She's such a suck-up I'm surprised she left class that long." Not-Kurt added. "But how did Artimus know where we were going?"

All three shared a look. "Conspiracy?" Blaine asked. His blood was practically trembling in delight. He loved conspiracies. They always reminded him of the original _X-Files_ opening when Government Denies Knowledge would flash on screen with the matching music. Shivers.

"Hate to agree with your shove-y self, but ... conspiracy." Not-Kurt said with a nod. Only Finn looked unconvinced.

"Maybe he just overheard us," Finn tried, but Blaine waved a hand at him.

"You know what Mulder would say to that?" Blaine asked. "Something laden with sexual tension between him and Scully, along with a firm Nothing Is Simple policy."

"Okay. Whatever." Finn said. "But dude, Kurt isn't here or anywhere. Where the hell is he?"

"Let's trace his steps," not-Kurt suggested. "What did my asshole ex say?"

"Shower, walking, dumpster," Blaine recited. They all shared a look -- again -- and this time they were all on board with the obvious conclusion. "Oh man, he's locked in a dumpster, isn't he."

"I did not sign up for this." Not-Kurt said. "My ass is sore and not in a fun way, and I am not going anywhere near those dumpsters unless I'm helping toss someone in."

"Do we need to pay you more? 'Cause I like my clothes." Finn said, plucking at his shirt. Not-Kurt shook his head sharply.

"Seeing you in leather would make my heart turn into fish stew. Can we just ... get Blaine to take off his shirt? And keep it off?" Not-Kurt whimpered this in a truly pathetic manner, and much like his crying earlier it didn't seem a hundred percent genuine. Blaine considered conspiracies, but tossed that aside. Not-Kurt wasn't smart enough to keep up an act for this long, and if he was leading them into trouble it was probably because he was being manipulated.

Besides, Blaine had totally shoved him down. He owed the guy one -- which was why he didn't complain, just struggled his way out of the bondage shirt and tossed it to Finn for safekeeping. Finn made a face along the lines of, _I don't want your dirty clothes_ but Blaine simply crossed his arms self-consciously and ignored him and not-Kurt's happy noise.

"Don't be shy. I think your body just cured my ass," not-Kurt leered, picking up and tossing aside the ice pack and sitting up. Blaine blushed and recrossed his arms the other way -- what else did you do when you were embarrassed but had already done your go-to move for embarrassment? -- but he had to admit he was feeling a little better.

"That doesn't sound like real medicine," Finn said. Blaine uncrossed his arms, deciding he had nothing to be ashamed of. Seriously, not when this guy was walking around, practically walking into walls with his words.

"Uh-huh. Let's just get to that dumpster." Not-Kurt jumped to his feet, smile in place, which was quickly replaced with a frown. "Ew. Never thought I would say that."

"Today has just been a day of firsts," Blaine announced. "First time I ran a red light. First time my ass got groped while making out. First time I kissed Tina, and Finn --"

"We weren't talking about that dude!"

"-- First time I lost my boyfriend to a parallel universe. First time I punched someone. First time I cheated on my boyfriend, even if I didn't start it."

"First time crying in the washroom?" Not-Kurt sneered.

"No. Not even close."

Not-Kurt and Finn blinked at each other then back at Blaine. "That's really sad man."

"What hunkylunky said." Not-Kurt threaded his arm through Blaine's and began to tug him towards the door. "Before you say anything else you regret, let's go."

"Alright."

They traipsed out the school, passing by a classroom where not-Sam was throwing a fit ("Spoiled millionaire without a family ... think Richy Rich but even more annoying"), not-Mr Schue and not-Rachel hugging too intimately ("Down Finn, down boy") and ("terrifying Principal") Sue berating a drugged-out not-Mike. Other than the principal thing, Sue was the same -- Blaine and Finn weren't surprised. She was her own evil twin.

Outside in the parking lot, they saw two figures by the dumpster. Neither were Kurt. It was, in fact, not-Quinn in earthy-mama clothes kissing not-Brittany, who was dressed in an outfit worthy of Kurt. Finn froze, muttering _hot!_ under his breath, and the fact that not-Kurt looked unsure with this development set off warning bells in Blaine's head. Big, loud ones. Like a fire truck mated with an ambulance and a clocktower. Being rung by the hunchback on steroids.

Black magic. Reversed traits. Conspiracy.

Not-Brittany pulled away from not-Quinn and smiled. A slow, terrifying, evil smile.

"Hello boys. We've been expecting you."


	5. magience

Blaine swallowed nervously. To be clear, he liked Brittany. She was his soul sister, and they had sleepovers together and sang things like  _Good Morning Sun_ while skipping through the halls. She had taught him the fine art of making s'mores in the toaster and he had taught her the multiple exciting uses of rock salt. Their friendship was an unexpected but overall delightful experience, and Blaine adored her.  
  
He didn't like this Brittany one bit.  
  
Not-Brittany stepped away from not-Quinn and tugged at her McQueen folded jacket, an insincere smile painted across her lips. Blaine glanced nervously at Finn, who was still stuck on the girl kisses if his mailman face was any indication, then at not-Kurt, who was scowling.  
  
"If it isn't Brainttany," Not-Kurt said, and it was catty enough that Blaine gave a quick scan for ears or a tail. Never be too certain, that was his motto. (Actually, it was Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,  _but_.)  
  
"Kurt, darling." Brittany sounded like every society lady Blaine couldn't stand, and Blaine wanted to run away. He couldn't though, not with the dumpster still behind her. "I have to say, I enjoy how you've corrupted that Blaine with your alternative, bondage scene-inspired clothing and more liberal views on the rights people have to displaying their body."  
"It's hot, I know." Not-Kurt sniffed approvingly. Blaine preened. Just a little. "I'm personally interested in how you corrupted Darkness Falls here into willingly kissing you, since last time I checked she was sleeping with Anderson, and unlike him she doesn't cheat."  
  
"I only slept with him to prepare." Not-Quinn spoke for the first time and holy shit, she sounded creepy. All raspy-voiced like it was rare for her to talk at all or had smoked a bunch of cigarettes while engaged in multiple counts of autoerotic asphyxiation. Like the love child of Clyde's future-Mulder and Cigarette Smoking Man. "Ms Brittany asked me to do so, so I did."  
  
"Prepare?" Blaine looked between them, those bells still going off. "For what? ... me?"  
  
"Smart boy." Not-Brittany made a show of clapping condescendingly. "I hope acting isn't a future career choice of yours, because that's hardly subtle." Not-Brittany's voice froze Blaine's eyes in their tracks.  
  
"I'm not doing anything!" Blaine immediately defended, but he knew he was busted.  _What'cha gonna do when they come for you?_  
  
"But of course." Not-Brittany smirked. "Looking for weapons? Or an escape? Trust me, no matter how genre savvy you think you are, I'm moreso. Have you looked down yet?"  
  
Blaine looked down.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
There were long, looping lines painted on the ground underneath, like a transmutation circle instead of parking space markers. Which made sense, since Blaine was living the FMA movie dream right now. Except that wasn't a dream, because Ed ended up seperated from his significant other forever, a universe away from home. Youch. Blaine had a feeling these lines weren't a portal though, because not-Brittany was right about his genre savviness.  
  
"Let me guess. This transmutation circle look-alike is actually more along the lines of a Devil's Trap. It's how you're keeping Kurt in the dumpster." Blaine examined the lines, crouching in a very cool, dramatic way. They were done in only chalk, so not exactly hard to destroy. "I guess it's tuned to my universe's vibes or atomic level or something." Which meant not-Kurt could get away if need be.  
  
"You know your magic and science. Your magience." Not-Quinn said, trying to clap like not-Brittany but coming across more like an overenthusiastic toddler. Blaine rose to his feet slowly, eyeing her. "Right on all counts. I call it an Other-Trap, for other-Kurt and other-Finn and you."  
  
"Other?" Blaine made a face. "Not fair. If anyone's world is likely to be filled with button-eyed monsters, it's yours."  
  
"Exactly." Not-Brittany flipped her hair back, stalking a little closer. "I don't like people in this world -- well, to be more accurate, I don't like the Blaine of this world."  
  
"I get that," Finn said. "He sounds like a major ass."  
  
"Preach." Not-Kurt snickered. Blaine nodded because, well, yeah.  
  
"He is." Not-Quinn sighed. "After we were done, he told me to get out of his bed so I didn't block his view while he played _Grand Theft Auto_. My parents thought I was at a sleepover so I couldn't go home, and I ended up sleeping on the floor like a dog."  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine said, frowning deeply. Not-Quinn fluttered her lashes, then shared a look with not-Brittany.  
  
"I see why you like him."  
  
"I don't get this," not-Kurt cut in, propping his hands on his hips in a way that meant nothing but business. "All I'm getting is that you don't like Anderson but you like Blaine. What, did you do all this so you could date him? Sweetheart, he's gay. Trust me, he jizzed his pants when he saw that I had a nipple ring."  
  
"Um, I have better control than Finn,  _thankyouverymuch_." Blaine knew it didn't really matter, and that he should be making himself more unattractive to not-Brittany, but that wasn't something any dude could just let go.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"I know he's gay." Not-Brittany didn't seem to find that digression very cute, eyes narrowed. Evilly. "You know what they say though -- all the good ones are either gay or taken, and Blaine here is both. That makes him the perfect boyfriend."  
  
"So, you're like our Brittany, kinda." Finn still looked a little miffed by Blaine's comment, scowling at everyone. "She did the whole gay boyfriend thing too."  
  
"I demand the story to that." Blaine loved a good McKinley relationship drama story; it was why back in the day he got Kurt to call him up after his lady chats with Finn and give him the downlow on everything. "Not right now though. The only story I'm interested in being told is the one where you two learned there was a parallel universe and somehow tapped into it."  
  
"And who's into this whole conspiracy," not-Kurt added. "Seriously, backstabbers who would send me to a world where I'm a loser virgin aren't the type I'm going to share my dunkaroos with."  
  
"Alright." Not-Brittany groaned. "I'll do the whole boring villain speech. It's a long one though."  
  
"All the more time for us to figure out how to escape," Blaine said in his most casual tone, knowing that at this point there was no point bullshitting. Not-Brittany and -Quinn laughed, and Finn and not-Kurt made annoyed,  _don't give the game away_ faces.  
  
"I really do like you," not-Brittany said in and admiring tone. Blaine made his favourite scrunchy 'not your team' face. "So we'll journey back in time on the wings of words, and weave you a tale that will leave you staggered in awe."  
  
"Stagger me then," Blaine challenged, jerking his chin up in a go on gesture. Not-Brittany nodded and began to speak in a faraway tone.  
  
"Once upon a time, there were two little girls who hated each other. They fought for the good swing at recess, they spread rumours, they stole each other's friends. The only person who managed to stay amiable with both of them was Quinn, who transferred in during the last year of elementary school with her pot-smoking, hemp-weaving devil-worshipping hippy parents--"  
  
"My parents are wiccans." Not-Quinn said tiredly. "I'm the only devil worshipper in the family. Well, me and Grandma Lucy, but we don't talk about her since she stopped using her hands for a full year just so Satan would possess them, and then he caused her to play the fiddle until her fingers caught fire."  
  
There was a short silence before not-Brittany continued. "Idle hands of the upside-down cross bearers aside, the point is Quinn was a strange child who didn't quite fit in anywhere but between those two girls. They fought over her like they fought over anything else, and much like Gretchen caught between Cady and Regina --"  
  
"I love that movie." Finn said excitedly.  
  
"I approve of it being a constant," Blaine added.  
  
"As I was saying," not-Brittany clearly loved to hear herself speak. "Much like Gretchen caught between Cady and Regina, Quinn ended up spilling secrets and eventually choosing one girl over the other as her new Queen Bee. Quinn would perform good-luck spells and soon her new Queen dominated the chess board of popularity -- until high school, when one promiscuous gay kid gave Tina a makeover and helped her rule."  
  
Not-Kurt made a show of bowing.  
  
"Those girls knew they wouldn't be able to beat out Tina unless they quit the loser Cheerios, but they loved cheerleading too much. Instead, they agreed to work together for the first time in their life. For a while, they were the Holy Trinity and they started to make cheering cool again. But that one girl, with her faithful side-kick Quinn--"  
  
Not-Quinn scowled a little, but smoothed her expression to a carefully blank one of willing servitude when not-Brittany glanced at her.  
  
"--couldn't stop her desire to crush the other girl. She took advantage of their new closeness and ruined the other girl's self-confidence, until she was nothing but a miserable wreck, sleeping with everyone in school in a desperate bid for popularity and chasing after well-liked persons to leech off of their interpersonal success."  
  
"While I do find Santa Lopez's life story to be so interesting, really, I swear," not-Kurt said. "What does this have to do with Blaine? Last time I checked, he never got in the middle of that stupid feud you two have been rocking since you were in diapers."  
  
Blaine hummed. He couldn't say he was surprised that not-Santana was this Brittany's nemesis, but it did make him a little sad. He shipped them, in that quiet real-life way that some people did. However, he was a little surprised that this was somehow the basis of him travelling to another world.  
  
"Well you see, old habits died hard. In many ways, I knew I had Santana beat. I was smarter and more sociable and I dressed a hell of a lot better."  
  
"All true," not-Kurt agreed.  
  
"But I couldn't shake the feeling that I had to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't sucker punch me on the way to the top -- and I noticed that she had her eyes set firmly on one Blaine Anderson, former Garbler and current King of the school, Tina's arm candy and the most charming white rapper wannabe you ever met."  
  
"So, do I like, rap, or is that just a style?" Blaine asked, then waved a hand. "No, nevermind. I don't think I want the answer to that."  
  
"You really don't," not-Kurt said with a wince, and not-Brittany and -Quinn went all bobble-headed in agreement. Finn muttered something about Mr Schue that Blaine didn't catch -- Finn was still a fair distance away, where he had wandered off after Blaine made fun of his 'timing'.  
  
"He's hardly a catch, but it seems he gets everyone's engines firing." Not-Brittany made a helpless noise. "I'll never understand it, which is odd as I have the highest IQ in the history of Ohio. The lesser people are strange, I'll say that much." Not-Brittany shook her head, then regained her icy composure. "However, what the people want, the people get. If I want to rule at their head I need to get with the most wanted piece of action at this school. Yet, as I already established, I don't like Anderson very much."  
  
"So you came after me," Blaine said. Not-Brittany nodded.  
  
"First, I sent Quinn to seduce Anderson. It was a very two-stoned venture, because it made Santana all the more self-hating and scoped out my future boytoy. Quinn's report on his behaviour didn't tantalize me, but something else did. It seemed that, in order to work up the courage to go through with sleeping with vicious Tina's boyfriend, Quinn smoked some of her parents' weed -- only to realize later that she had smoked one of her magic herbs or something like that."  
  
"Magience herbs."  
  
"Yes, yes. While flying high on those and making the beast with two backs with Anderson, Quinn astral projected to your world. There, she saw an actually gentlemanly version of his dickish self, dressed like a collegiate prepster and treating his boyfriend like a prince. She told me about this, and I knew that where Anderson failed you--" not-Brittany jabbed a finger at Blaine. Her nails were almost scarily long. "Would pick up the slack. So I had her go to Kurt for sex advice --"  
  
"I should have been suspicious of that," not-Kurt grumbled.  
  
"-- and while he was trying to find his leather suit, she cast a little dark portal magic on his bed. That night, when Kurt lay down for an undoubtedly erotic-dream filled rest, he went to your world. Since other-Kurt and him couldn't occupy the same space on that bed without ripping apart the fabric of space and time, the universe fixed itself by sending other-Kurt here. I knew that if you were as good a boyfriend as you seemed, you would come to save him. Quinn got a little peek into your mind while she was projecting, and she saw that you were the type who believed in magience."  
  
"I do, and now I'm here." Blaine glanced around. He was very interested in the fact that the universe fixed itself -- that could be their ticket home, and explain why going to not-Kurt and -Finn's usual before-breakfast blowjob spot brought them to the not-world. Not-Kurt was the link to the paraverse, and touching Blaine -- the focus of Quinn's dark energies -- and Finn while they occupied the same space threw them across universes.  
  
Blaine was so writing a book about all this.  
  
"What I don't get is, why would you go to all this trouble?" Blaine glanced at Finn (who looked more lost in the conversation than he did in a parallel universe) and not-Kurt (who was making the most hilarious face of disbelief). "You made four people take an unwanted trip, like a pushy travel agency from hell --"  
  
"Travel agencies in Hell are actually very professional and friendly," not-Quinn butted in, and Blaine glared. Now he got why not-Brittany was so pissed off by all the interruptions she had endured.  
  
"--just so you could what, win Prom Queen? Get voted Most Popular in the Thunderclap? Isn't that excessive? Why not just date not-Artie, he seems way cool. I would date him." Blaine really would. He hoped Kurt couldn't hear anything through the dumpster walls.  
  
"Ahh, Artimus." Not-Brittany made an ugly face. "He rejected my advances back when I was a lowly cheerleading freshie. So I used him. I told him about Quinn and Anderson so he would tell Tina, and today I told him that Kurt would be asking around about himself so Artimus better say that he saw a prudey version of Kurt running around. He mentioned the dumpsters, right?"  
  
"No." Finn said shortly. "I knew he just overheard us. Artimus is awesome, no way he would trick us." Finn sounded head over heels at that last part.  
  
"He told not-Santana that we were in the choir room," Blaine pointed out. Truth be told, he was a little in love with not-Artie too and he was a little relieved at the thought that he wasn't evil. Not-Kurt looked like he felt the same way.  
  
"He did?!" Not-Brittany asked, interrobanging sharply. "That sneak! He was trying to get Santana to distract you, or tip you off or something. He knows she's my kryptonite--" Blaine's shipper heart squealed "--and he played us! Well I say, screw him. He'll get his comeuppance when you and I rule the school."  
  
"I'm not going to date you." Blaine said carefully. Not-Brittany looked like a bomb about to go off, the faint delicious waftings of popularity pie being the only thing keeping her icy façade together. "I am going to save my boyfriend and take him and his brother home with me."  
  
"And how are you going to do that? We have your prize." Not-Quinn stepped back toward the dumpster, hitting the side with a clang. Blaine winced in pity for Kurt. Loud noises, small spaces, strong smells; it was like every nightmarish dream Blaine had about being crushed to death by a trash compacter. (You would have them to if the last time you saw your favourite teddy it was flattened to the side of a garbage square.)  
  
"We outnumber you." Not-Kurt said in a very bold move, which admittedly made Blaine's coward-seeks-brave-mate senses tingle pleasantly.  
  
"Yeah, and I count for like, two people." Finn waved his hands wildly at his giant self.  
  
"But we have you trapped." Not-Brittany tapped the swirly-painted ground. "One word from Quinn, and you won't be able to move a muscle."  
  
That threat was a good one. Blaine gave it five stars in his head, made note to learn how to do something similar back home, and began to swish spit around in his mouth. It was a gross feeling with a grosser noise, but sacrifices and all that jazz. Wasn't that how he ended up in lace-up leather pants, shirtless, in not-McKinley's parking lot?  
  
"Quinn, say the word." Not-Brittany ordered; Blaine spat just as Quinn shouted  _Rasputin_. Blaine froze, face stuck in what felt like his most unsexy face (he liked to practice making faces in the mirror, so he knew them well) and out of the corner of his eye he could see Finn, arms crossed petulantly and eyes wide. Not-Kurt was unaffected, chuckling in Blaine's direction.  
  
"Ew, what was that supposed to do?" Not-Kurt asked, wrinkling his nose as he wandered over to Blaine's side, patting (read: groping) Finn's stiff arm on the way over. Blaine tried to signal not-Kurt with his eyes, praying that months of eyesex with Kurt would translate here.  
  
"Probably trying to ruin the lines," not-Brittany remarked. "Too late for that." Not-Kurt bit his lip to hide his smile and Blaine did an internal tango. No freakin' way -- not-Brittany had made the Classic Villain Mistake of underestimating the heroes despite all her claims of genre savviness.  
  
Not-Kurt made a frustrated noise. "Now they're stuck, and you two outnumber me! That's not fair. Why don't you join other-me in the dumpster, Darkness Falls, since you love being treated like trash?"  
  
"Her masochism is none of your business," not-Brittany said dismissively, flapping a hand. Not-Quinn made cow eyes at the back of her girlfriend's? master's? head.  
  
"I'm not a masochist. I'm just desperate to belong." Not-Quinn was just as pathetic as not-Santana, seriously. They were just two sides of the same coin, and Blaine felt bad about flipping either of them. Or something. Hadn't he established that he sucked at metaphors?  
  
Unless he had subconsciously flipped them both off, which, weird.  
  
"Just keep on telling yourself that sweetie." Not-Kurt should become an actor, because he was selling the _Oh no what do I do?_ thing perfectly, even as he slowly minced his way over to where Blaine had spat. Not-Brittany wasn't watching him, instead circling slowly toward Blaine. He didn't like the look in her eyes.  
  
"I do, every day," not-Quinn whispered sadly, as not-Brittany rounded on Blaine and blocked his view of not-Kurt. Smiling in victory, she reached out to cradle Blaine's jaw and slowly began to lean in for a kiss, and Blaine struggled against invisible magience bonds. His lips were going to be  _so_  chapped by the end of this adventure, Kurt would never kiss him again.  
  
Just as not-Brittany's lips touched his, Blaine felt his struggles pay off and he pulled himself backward, spitting again just to get the taste of soulless evil off. It tasted even worse than just plain soulless conformity.  
  
"Dude, I can totally move!" Finn shouted, throwing his limbs around like an octopus. "But not groove, which is okay, because I don't need to dance!"  
  
"Shut up and car!" Not-Kurt squealed, as not-Brittany spun on him, claw-nails curled _a la_ Gaga.  
  
"Car car car car car," Blaine chanted as he ran, listening for Finn's thundering footsteps and not-Kurt's gazelle-like bounds behind him. Not-Brittany shrieked a loud "Fuck!" while not-Quinn asked "What do I do, what do I do?"  
  
"Get them, idiot!" Not-Brittany snarled as Blaine reached Kurt's car. Blaine yanked open a door and threw himself in the backseat, and before he could lever himself up to see if his companions had made it too he was flattened by far too many pounds of sheer Finniness.  
  
From underneath Finn Blaine heard two doors slam shut and Finn cry out in pain, then an engine revving as not-Kurt prayed to some sort of ancient sex deity. Desperately sucking in air as the tires screeched and feeling the car vibrating as it took out of the parking lot like a shot, Blaine kneed Finn in what hopefully wasn't his crotch.  
  
"Dude, that's my crotch!"  
  
"Sorry," Blaine wheezed as Finn finally got off him, scrambling to make himself a tiny ball against the car door around his hurt groin. Blaine settled himself as he breathed deeply. He hadn't known that having a guy on top of him could not be fun.  
  
"And you wanted me to lock my doors," not-Kurt smirked smugly from the front seat, foot flat against the floor as his car broke what felt like several speed and sound barriers. Blaine hoped he didn't have a flux capacitor onboard, or they would find themselves time _and_ universe travelling.  
  
"Yeah, whatever, sixth sense hurrah," Blaine muttered, looking out the back window. They were already so far gone the school wasn't in sight. "We left Kurt behind." His insides shrivelled at the thought, the hopefully not literally. He was sort of a terrible boyfriend, no matter what not-Brittany thought.  
  
"Why did we run?" Finn asked, eyes watering as he peered at Blaine, who wasn't sure if it was due to pain or sadness. "We really did outnumber them, and other-Kurt broke the magic circle thing."  
  
"I did, didn't I? I'm a regular Superman," not-Kurt proudly drummed his fingers on the wheel. Blaine shot him a look. This really wasn't the time. Not-Kurt seemed to feel the glare, because he shrugged helplessly. "We ran because Darkness Falls is a witch and Brainttany is scary as hell."  
  
"But--" Finn and Blaine tried, but not-Kurt cut them off with a karate chop motion to the dashboard, car careening for a moment as he wrestled with the wheel one-handed. Blaine thanked the stars above that they were on an empty residential street at the moment.  
  
"Think about it. I didn't follow that whole overly elaborate plot that Brainttany put together, but one thing stuck out to me. I came -- hee -- to your world, and ended up tagging along with your second-rate quest because me and that other-me couldn't be in the exact same space at the exact same time."  
  
"Continue."  
  
"Well, we had a close call in the choir room, but you shoved Finny under that magic piano or whatever and saved us from more universal rollercoasters. But there aren't magic pianos everywhere, and it's not like Brainttany could just get Anderson to transfer because then she couldn't explain you hanging around."  
  
"So she would have to get rid of other-me ..." Blaine gulped, somewhat for dramatic effect but mostly out of fear. "... permanently."  
  
"Shit." Finn looked back in the direction of the school. "We left Kurt alone with her."  
  
"Double that shit and make it to go," Blaine said, thumping the back of the driver's seat. Not-Kurt ran a red light. "We need to go save Kurt."  
  
"Ever try and sing a new song?" Not-Kurt asked, but he sounded resigned. Blaine beamed at him in the rearview mirror and not-Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. This time though, don't get trapped, don't spit on anything, and no running around like idiots. We go, we do, we leave, like the depressing version of my normal Saturday night." Not-Kurt spun into a U-turn at an intersection that left horns honking on all sides.  
  
"Just go," Blaine said, sinking back into his seat and rubbing at his eyes. A second later some fabric bumped into his hand, and Blaine lowered it to see that Finn was holding out the bondage shirt. "What?"  
  
"Oh, I thought you were crying." Finn dropped the shirt in Blaine's lap. "And, yaknow, I don't really wanna hold your dirty clothes anymore."  
  
" _Thanks."_


	6. the sisterhood

They ninja-parked on the edge of the lot, quietly exiting and creeping along behind cars. Trying to sneak attack someone with Finn proved difficult, as he was a giant tree on legs, so not-Kurt tripped him so he fell on all fours then climbed on top of his back with a quiet yee-haw. Finn blinked but kept moving, making soft whinnying noises and confirming every suspicion Blaine had that Finn's seemingly dull sex life was just a cover for a unique fetish.

When they reached the final car before the dumpster, Blaine peeked over the hood and saw that not-Brittany and -Quinn were nowhere to be seen. The swirly lines of the Other-Trap were still there though -- Principal Sue would throw a fit -- so Blaine waved at not-Kurt to go check the dumpster. 

With an aggravated sigh, not-Kurt climbed off Finn and made a show of bow-leggedly moseying over to the dumpster, like every dirty fantasy about Kurt roleplaying Dean Blaine had ever had. (Blaine had once turned an unattractive shade of red when he heard Kurt coo over an Impala currently Burt's shop, that's for sure. When they were married, Blaine would buy him one and they could have sex in the backseat. Hopefully Kurt would be more sexually adventurous by that point.)

"Hell-ooo?" Not-Kurt glanced around. "Brainttany, Darkness Falls, you 'round?"

Only silence followed.

"Alright, can you get the dumpster open?" Blaine asked as he straightened, and Finn rocked back so he was kneeling. Which would've been kinda hot if Finn didn't manage to be head-level with his ribs due to his freakish height. Blaine, after all, wasn't all that short. 

"Can and will are two very different words baby." Not-Kurt eyed the dumpster. "I am so not touching that."

"That's what she said." Finn snickered from where he was still kneeling. 

"Your sex life is pathetic," not-Kurt called back, and Finn made a sad puppy face. Blaine, being the nice guy he was, pet Finn's hair a little to cheer him up. Finn shot him a weirded-out look but didn't move away. "Hey, that's not an excuse to get touchy-feely with Blaine! If anyone's landing some stroking, it'll be me." Not-Kurt shouted.

Blaine sent a quick prayer to Castiel that Kurt really couldn't hear through those dumpster walls.

"All inappropriate touching aside ... use this." Blaine had held onto the shirt, well aware from countless adventure-puzzle games (everything from Nancy Drew to _Flight of the Amazon Queen_ ) that you should hang onto every item, however useless or unwieldy you find it. Now he tossed it over to not-Kurt, and being a shirt it sorta flopped to the ground half-way there. Not-Kurt shot him a look and retrieved it, but didn't use it.

"I can't." Not-Kurt made his own sad puppy face. "This shirt smells like you, and once you go it'll be all I have left."

"Okay." It wasn't the weirdest thing Blaine had heard in his years of being quite attractive. "Finn, take off your shirt." Not-Kurt made a noise of agreement.

Finn crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll make fun of my nipples." That was quite possibly the weirdest thing Blaine had ever heard ever.

"We don't have anything else." Kurt would kill them if not-Kurt used the silk shirt he was wearing to pop the dumpster open.

"I have an idea," not-Kurt chirped, raising a hand. "Finn, you can wear this shirt --" not-Kurt waved the bondage shirt cheerily "-- and I can use that rag you're wearing right now." Not-Kurt tossed the shirt, and once again it meekly hit the ground half-way there. 

"Okay ..?" Finn rose to his feet and clunked over to it, picking it up and holding it up against his chest. Blaine bit back a giggle, and not-Kurt's eyes were practically helping Finn strip. "Um, no offence or anything, but Kurt's skinny and Blaine is really short. I don't think this will fit a Finn-sized package."

"Well I don't want you to wear it down there --" not-Kurt stopped. "Oh, I get it. But no, trust me. Haven't you read _The Sisterhood_?" Finn shook his head a little too fast while Blaine nodded.

"Another constant I approve of," Blaine said. "And I agree, stranger things have happened. Give it a try, if it doesn't work at least we'll have a funny story to tell next time we're drunk." Everyone needed a series of embarrassing but frank tales to tell while three sheets to the wind.

"Fine." Finn turned around. "Nobody peek." Not-Kurt huffed dramatically and collapsed to the ground, hands over his eyes and wearing a pout that could be seen from space. Blaine politely turned around, a little disappointed to see that he was on the wrong side of the car to get a reflection of Finn changing.

"Fuck," Finn swore loudly. This was followed by clanging buckles, a slight ripping noise and the sound of a zipper slowly being jerked up. Blaine tapped his foot, bored, then glanced at not-Kurt to make sure he was still averting his gaze. He, in fact, was, and Blaine realized with a wince that he'd nearly been more pervy than the guy who defined Inappropriate.

"Okay, done."

Blaine spun around and not-Kurt popped to his feet faster than a zombie that had just spotted its first meal. Finn was standing there, and -- well, hello. Apparently _The Sisterhood_ was more than a heartwarming tale about the bonds that bind us, and instead a guide to the oddest of sorceries. The shirt fit Finn. Admittedly, it was a little on the tight side and the straps that had hung in a gentle arc on Blaine were now taut, but it didn't look like someone had stuffed a fistful of play-do into a garlic press.

"I feel a song coming on." Not-Kurt said breathily, fanning himself. "And by song, I mean erection. And by erection, I mean, are you sure you're straight big boy?"

"Pretty sure." Finn said with a shrug. He had lovely, lovely, lovely shoulders. "Uh, Blaine? You're not about to pop a -- song, are you?"

"Like _Woody's Round-Up_?" Blaine replied absently, until his brain caught back up with itself. "Oh wow, that was so so wrong. I'm sorry. I recently rewatched that movie to research haunted toys only, I swear, I marathoned it with _Chucky_ while reading the Living Dummy trilogy."

"Whatever you say." Not-Kurt grinned. "I, personally, was massively attracted to Woody and Buzz. Sometimes -- no, often together."

"You would be sexually attracted to a potted plant if someone drew a dick on it." Blaine muttered. Both not-Kurt and Finn sniggered, and then not-Kurt looked to Finn again.

"Dicks aside, I have to say that if some magic can do this, it must not all be that bad." Not-Kurt said. Blaine had to agree, if only because otherwise he would become Uther and nobody wanted to be Uther. "Also, we're apparently part of a group of friends who distance and differences can't keep apart. That's fabulous."

"Weren't there four of them?" Finn asked.

"I thought you didn't know the series." Blaine replied immediately. Finn shot him a look.

"I saw the movie. The, uh, second one. But only half of it." Blaine decided to be nice and let Finn get away with that.

"Yes, there are four of them. And I think our fourth is in that dumpster." Blaine rounded the car as he spoke, turning back to Kurt's (assumed) prison, and Finn tossed his old shirt at not-Kurt before coming back over to Blaine's side. Not-Kurt skipped over to grab Finn's shirt, sniffed it a little, made a face (which may be his sexy face, Blaine couldn't be sure) and minced back over to the dumpster. 

Everyone held their breath -- due to the smell in not-Kurt's case -- as two hands wrapped in Finn's shirt fumbled with something beneath the lid before pushing it up with a great groan of the dumpster lid. Not-Kurt leaned over, peering into the darkness while his surprisingly strong arms held the lid up. "Anyone in there?"

There was a long pause while Blaine's heart sank, until a tentative voice replied, "Not more of you."

Blaine looked to Finn, grinning. It was Kurt.

xx

Kurt managed to climb out the dumpster on his own, avoiding not-Kurt entirely without a single word of warning from Blaine. He hit the ground with unsteady feet, hands coming up to wipe at streaming, squinting eyes. Between that and the smudges on his face Kurt shouldn't have looked as beautiful as he did to Blaine right at that moment.

"Other-me, you look like garbage." Not-Kurt snarked. Kurt tried to glare at his doppelgänger, but the whole blinded-by-the-light thing meant he was glaring at the flagpole instead. Blaine sighed. This wasn't going to be pretty. 

"Side effect of dumpster diving." Kurt snapped. "Now what do you want? More ridiculous plans to get Blaine into this crazy world?"

"I don't want him into this world." Not-Kurt assured before Blaine could step in and let Kurt know that it was a little too late for that. "I do want him in me, but who doesn't want that?"

Kurt turned very red, while Finn slowly raised his hand, lowered it, then raised it again. When Blaine looked at him, Finn waved his hands anxiously. "I don't want it, but I wasn't sure what agreeing meant."

Kurt turned very pale. "God, not him again. I'm tired of getting hit on by stepbrother! My life is not a Greek myth, thank _you_."

"That's not the Finn you're thinking of." Blaine said in his best Obi-Wan voice. Kurt froze.

"B-Blaine?" Kurt took an unsteady step in the direction of Blaine, raising a hand above his eyes so he could peer at Blaine. "Is that really you? My Blaine?"

Blaine's chest got the warm fuzzies at the possessive mine, like watching puppies cuddle kittens under rainbows while Squirtle tearfully proclaimed that he was so happy he had come out. Kinda gay and utterly wonderful. "Yeah, it's me. Me and Finn came to save you."

They smiled at each other softly.

"Well it's about time," Kurt said, smile vanishing. Blaine gaped. "Do you have any idea what kind of misery I've been through Blaine Warbler?"

Blaine looked to not-Kurt, whose eyebrows had creeped up his forehead like hybrids of a sidewinder and a caterpillar. Finn was starring in Return of The Sad Face. "Wow man, that's kinda mean. Blaine's been through shit too."

Kurt shut his eyes and sighed. "Sorry. I guess spending three hours in a dumpster isn't an upper." He blinked a few more times, then added, "I'm only just starting to see again, which is goo--oomg what are you wearing." Kurt raised a hand to his mouth, eyes shuttling between Blaine's legs and Finn's chest. 

"All my work," not-Kurt sang as he pranced over, sliding an arm around Blaine's bare waist, fingers dipping into the too-tight waistband. Kurt's face got even more stiff in shock and Finn tugged self-consciously at the bondage shirt.

Blaine giggled, trying to squirm away. "Stop that, it tickles." He coughed, and added. "Also, I thought we established a no-touching rule."

"I'm trying to entice the other-me into a threesome." Not-Kurt explained, wiggling his free hand suggestively at Kurt, who looked simply horrified. Finn moved to reassure his step-brother.

"Don't worry, I've been with them the entire time, nothing's happened." Finn glanced upwards thoughtfully then grinned awkwardly. "Well, some kissing and stuff, but like, Blaine wasn't trying to cheat on you."

"Not trying?"

"Well like, it just happened--"

"Please shut up Finn." Blaine snapped, stepping firmly away from not-Kurt. "Kurt, nothing's happened. Your parallel self just happens to be incredibly promiscuous and not conscious of boundaries."

"He only speaks the truth." Not-Kurt sang, twirling on the spot.

"Chamma chamma," Blaine replied, before beckoning at Kurt. "C'mon, I swear nothing happened. I would never do that to you, I love you. Now come out of the Other-trap, please?"

Kurt noticed the swirling lines beneath him and speed-walked over to Blaine's side, gaze hesitant. "Thank you," Kurt said quietly, reaching out to grab Blaine's hand. Blaine's heart skipped a beat and he leaned in for a kiss, and it was the first one of this whole adventure that felt right.

Until Kurt pulled back and made a face of interest, licking his lips in a way that made Blaine go hello! "You taste like cherry lipgloss. Trying something new?" The fact that Kurt was genuinely posing this question made Blaine gaze at him fondly; Kurt appreciated living outside of boxes.

"Not-Brittany just wanted some of this ..." Blaine made a face. Kurt made one back.

"She was getting up on my man?" Kurt was seething. "That is it. I wake up in a bondage-themed sex cave, get felt up by Finn's clumsy paws and have to hike to school, see Artie walking and _know_ I'm in some sort of alternate universe. Then I hide in a dumpster and some evil cheerleaders -- redundant, I know -- keep me trapped there. Now I find out one of them also got her hands on my boyfriend, and that the alternate version of myself is apparently a million times more sexy and appealing than me --" Kurt stopped to take a deep breath. "That's it. I want my dad's flamethrower and I want it now."

"Dad is dead though," not-Kurt pointed out, less than tactfully. "I don't think that's the sort of thing mom keeps around anyway."

"Dad is --" Kurt stopped, eyes closing briefly before he rallied himself together. "But mom is alive. That's ..."

"Bittersweet?" Offered Finn, and Kurt smiled sadly.

"Touching moments later." Not-Kurt declared. "C'mon, less sexy and appealing version of me. You and your stupidly loyal boyfriend and brother all need to get to a portal and get home. You're cramping my style."

"Oh god." Kurt sniffed. "You're so two thousand and late."

Not-Kurt looked deeply offended. "Why you --"

Blaine, who had been rather blown away by watching Kurt get riled up, now snickered. "Big girls don't cry, not-Kurt." Not-Kurt looked even more deeply offended (a subtle but noticeable difference) and a little hurt, and Blaine felt a stab of guilt.

"Wow! Imagine if this was like, _Inception_ , and this was all a dream ..." Finn said, pinching himself. Everyone stared at him. He blinked. "You know. _Inception you gotta brother dreamin' dreamin'_ \-- what, seriously? Best line ever."

"I'm afraid of how your mind works," Blaine said. "All that aside, not-Kurt is right, let's get out of here and back to the Hummel home."

"Please." Kurt said. "This place is full of nothing but creepy evil lookalikes, like a twin convention gone horribly wrong. I can't stand it."

"We're not evil!" Not-Kurt said, but didn't follow it up with _okay, a little bit_ like he had with Blaine. Had that just been his way of flirting? All signs pointed to yes, and Blaine felt even guiltier for all the times he had labelled not-Kurt as evil. Really, after all this time together, Blaine had to admit that he really wasn't: sure in some ways he was nastier than Kurt, but Kurt was nastier than not-Kurt in other ways. The point of being parallel is that there is equivalent exchange, and Blaine had wrongly assumed that meant good versus evil.

"I just had an epiphany," Blaine announced. Luckily it hadn't hurt him like it had hurt Angel. "They're not evil. Don't get me wrong, they're jerks. But they're not evil."

"Hey man," Finn said nervously. "Quoting without sources is plagiarism." Blaine ignored him, though he was happy that at least one teacher had gotten a point through Finn's thick skull.

"Alright." Kurt stared at Blaine. "If you say so."

"My hero," not-Kurt said with a flutter of his lashes. "Now, to my fabulous car."

"What, no TARDIS?" Kurt sneered. Blaine felt his heart flutter, and not in that soon to be starring on _In A Heartbeat_ way. He really did have the best boyfriend ever.


	7. dominoes (not pizza)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude. It will take a look at the altverse kids, around late season two. There is Artie/Rachel, Mr Schue/Rachel (teacher/student), Puck/Lauren, onesided Finn/Sam, Finn/Kurt, Tina/Blaine, Brittany/Quinn, and onesided Santana/Brittany and Santana/Blaine. Phew.

**(interlude start)**

**(break it until you make it)**  
  
Rachel bit her lip, watching as Will left, aware of Artimus' stare. Sometimes, she had no idea how she ended up with such a hot, hot hot guy. A guy who happened to be her teacher.  
  
Sometimes she didn't know why she had accepted the offer he had made while under the guise of coaching her for her next solo. (Rachel was grateful. She had only gotten that solo because he wanted in to her pants, since the other girls and Kurt normally got the lead female roles.) Her teacher should have been off-limits, creepy.  
  
The thing was, Rachel couldn't do any better, could she? She had always liked Finn, but Finn was gayer than Rachel's two dads. She had also liked Kurt for a little while, but Kurt proved that while willing to have sex with a cardboard tube on video he would never be able to get it up for Rachel. Noah had been dating Lauren since middle school. Mike was a complete mess who spent his time blazed and refused to date someone sober. Sam was a rich snob who claimed to be above all the girls in Ohio. Artimus was the coolest guy in school and about as likely to go out with Rachel as he was to give up dancing.  
  
That was all the boys in the club, and Rachel would rather yank her teeth out then date someone outside the exclusive Nude Erections.  
  
That left Will. Good looking, charismatic, prone to debt, tight abs, hand warm as it ghosted over her ass. The goatee was a little weird but she had learned to handle the tickle while they kissed. He had plenty of good qualities, certainly.  
  
It was all fine.  
  
 **(gimme gimme strangely gets)**  
  
Will bent down, rubbing at a scuff on his otherwise clean shoes. After all they had cost, he intended to keep them in top condition -- he couldn't afford to be put back into debt. The Glee club was starting to get a little suspicious about where all the money they raised for "charities" was going  
  
From his kneeling position on the floor, Will could also admire Rachel's toned legs and her short skirt. When she first came to the school she wasn't his type -- dark-haired and poorly dressed and not classically pretty -- but after the nose job and the wardrobe rework she caught his eye for sure.  
  
Of course, he wasn't a bad guy. He never looked twice until she was seventeen, then he made his intentions clear. It was just his luck that apparently Rachel had always wanted him right back, and they had started up a little affair on the side. Terri had divorced him when she found out, but she was meek enough to not turn him in.  
  
Rachel was above the age of consent, after all. It was only him being her teacher that would get some raised eyebrows. She liked him, and he was all kinds of crazy for her (they were going to move to New York together when she graduated, and take Broadway by storm.) Luckily for Will, nobody knew -- and he intended to keep it that way.  
  
Grinning, he rose back to his feet and continued down the hall, ghosting a hand over Rachel's pert rear as he went. Rachel started and blushed, but kept on talking to Artimus like nothing had happened.  
  
Oh yes, Will was the master of getting what he wanted, and keeping it too.  
  
 **(the problem of being great when no one sees)**  
  
Artie frowned, watching as Rachel stared after a retreating Mr Schue. It was an open secret that the two were sleeping together -- they were both about as subtle as a turtle through a window, and Kurt had once pitch-perfectly mimicked both Mr Schue and Rachel's moans as he had overheard them one day while they were doing the dirty. The whole thing turned Artie's stomach.  
  
He considered himself an okay guy. He was the best dancer at this school -- his only real competition was Brittany, who had given up dance after he turned her down and Mike, who for some reason turned away from his talent in exchange for drugs. Artie also thought he was nice, and cute enough, and that his muscles were certainly impressive enough. Kurt enjoyed feeling them up after all.  
  
It didn't really make sense that Rachel had never been interested in him.  
  
Artie had a serious thing for her, he did. He had turned down Brittany in face of his long-standing crush. He had teared up when she "fixed" her nose, he had held her when she cried about losing out on solos to the other girls and Kurt. He tried to be there for her without being the jerk who pressures a girl into more than she was ready for, and then suddenly it was one of those unspoken things about Glee club that she was sleeping with their director.  
  
Artie hoped it was a good relationship, that Mr Schue treated her right. That was the only thing that could make up for the abuse of power that the whole arrangement reeked of. Really, all Artie wanted was for Rachel to be happy.  
  
 **(don't risk getting your feet wet)**  
  
Mike scowled, snubbing out his cigarette in the water fountain. Mr Schue was striding by, wearing that creepy smirk he always had on after bumping into Rachel. Mike didn't get how nobody in this school saw how fucked everything was. How did they live in a world where teachers slept with students and everybody knew but nobody cared, a world where Kurt's best friends knew Finn wasn't genuine but didn't say anything.  
  
Yeah, Mike hadn't said anything either, but fuck that. Fuck everything. Kurt didn't respect boundaries and he was one of many people at this school who didn't deserve anything more than what they got. Mike had been disillusioned a long time ago, and at this point lighting up was the only thing that made things a little better. It sorta made his life feel like Kid Cudi -- "so whatever, whatever". Whatever; it made things easier to deal with.  
  
As Mike turned the hall he saw Artimus talking to Rachel, and his frown deepened. Truth be told, he thought Artimus was alright and that Rachel was only a victim, but they made him feel bitter. Rachel could have anything she wanted, but she never aimed high, and Artimus aimed high and took everything Mike wanted. To be able to dance, to enjoy life ... well, whatever. Fuck that. What would Mike be able to do with dancing? Nothing, so it was a waste to pursue it.  
  
So what if Artimus always looked like he was having fun. Whatever.  
  
 **(long live the Queen)**  
  
Tina smiled at Mike -- she was Queen, and Queens doted on their subjects -- but he only scowled at her, per usual. She wondered when he lost that middle school-cheerfulness, but in the end who cared. It wasn't like she was his therapist.  
  
Her phone rang, and she pulled it out, smiling at boytoy on the screen. She had taught Blaine to call at lunch, and he was well-trained. "Hey babe, how's my favourite hottie?" She made sure to pitch her voice a little on the loud side, just to remind everyone that she had a gorgeous boyfriend who called her to see how she was even though they were at the same school.  
  
 _"Favourite yo? Does that mean you got others up in this thing?"_  Blaine asked, not sounding particularly jealous. Tina giggled, batting her fake lashes at some random boy, who turned red, hand spasming on his backpack strap. Blaine didn't have to worry -- she knew neither of them were the type to cheat.  
  
"No silly!" Tina internally winced at how sugary her voice sounded, which happened every now and again when her guards weren't up. Tina was above worrying about that sort of thing though: she was Queen after all. "You're the only one for me."  
  
 _"I diggit."_ There was some rustling on the other end and Tina rolled her eyes. Yeesh, she could handle Blaine's descent into white rapping territory as long as he was attentive and charming -- checking homework while on the phone with her did not fall under those areas.  _"Sorry, gotta go. I'm doing extra work for class."_  
  
"Love you," Tina purred, squashing down her annoyance.  
  
 _"Yeah, sure."_  Blaine said, before hanging up. Tina pulled her phone from her ear, glaring at it. Only for a split-second though -- she couldn't let her subjects doubt the strength or their Queen, of their Queen and her King. She and Blaine power coupled the hell of the school, and Tina wasn't about to lose the cred that gave her.  
  
Smile in place, she began to head to the cafeteria, adding a swing to her hips to catch all the boys' looks and all the girls' jealousy.  
  
It was good to be Queen.  
  
 **(following you is the best thing to do)**  
  
Quinn sighed, dragging her knees a little closer to her chest and watching as Tina walked by, eyes guiltily straying down her hips and following their wiggle. Quinn would never come out about her bisexuality, since Brittany wanted their relationship to be a secret, but it was okay to look, right? Quinn hoped so. She would have to ask Brittany.  
  
Speak of the devil (and He won't come, that was a misconception, but He will take notice of you). Brittany was stalking down the hall, making sure to clip Tina with her elbow as they passed each other by. Tina shot a nasty look over her shoulder but didn't say anything, and Brittany was smirking when she reached Quinn. "Why are you on the floor?"  
  
"Ms Brittany." Quinn rose to her feet, brushing down her dress. "I was waiting for you."  
  
"Like a dog." Brittany said, brow raised. Quinn flushed, biting her lip and eyeing Brittany uncertainly. Sometimes she wasn't sure if Brittany liked her-liked her and was just playing mean as part of some weird sex game or if she actually didn't like her. Quinn was the only one who had stayed by her side all these years: Brittany should appreciate her.  
  
"Sorry." Quinn didn't know what she was apologizing for, but she was used to it. "Want to get lunch?"  
  
"Already ate, darling," Brittany drawled, expression condescending. Quinn didn't take that one personally: Brittany gave everyone that look before long. "Run along if you want some though, I need to research some parallel universe theory."  
  
Brittany glanced around at the hall -- nearly empty now, everyone having headed off to lunch eat elsewhere -- and skimmed a hand down Quinn's neck, thumb just brushing the cord of her Blair Witch pendant.  
  
"See you," Quinn said as she beamed, brushing a hand along Brittany's waist as the other girl pulled away. Brittany only smirked, and left. Quinn watched her go.  
  
 **(bury me in your sweetness)**  
  
Lauren buried her face in Noah's neck, laughing breathlessly. Her lips were still tingling from his kisses, and his hands were warm on her waist. "We should go eat."  
  
"Kissing you keeps me stronger than food ever could," Noah murmured in her ear, and Lauren giggled again. The wonderful think about Noah was how poetic he could get. She knew he wasn't the smartest, but she didn't notice or care when he spoke so beautifully.  
  
"You're sweet, but I know the caf is serving your favourite ..." Lauren kissed his neck and he laughed softly into her hair.  
  
"You're my favourite."  
  
"No, you're my favourite." Lauren kissed his neck again, and Noah pulled back so he could kiss her on the lips. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, pressed together. Lauren felt about ready to die of happiness. It seemed her life was perfect: she was part of the most popular club in school, she was the best wrestler around, she had a long-term boyfriend who never got tired of her. There was nothing that could ruin this, nothing.  
  
Slowly Noah pulled back, and rested his forehead against hers. "Alright. Shall I treat my lady to lunch?"  
  
"He shall."   
  
 **(when the grey matter burn red hot)**  
  
Brittany felt a certain buoyancy whenever she finished up an encounter with Quinn, one that made her walk with a slight bounce and toss her head a little more. It was only hormones, of course. Endorphins. Flooding her body because of the sexual promise, the excitement of touching someone in a more than friendly way at school. Chemicals hardly indicated emotion, though Brittany supposed she felt some sort of detached affection for her sidekick, the same way some people enjoyed slinkies and plants.  
  
A door opened to her left, and Brittany's well-tuned reflexes allowed her to swirl out of the way of a red Lauren, exiting the closet with Noah. Brittany gave them her most haughty glance, well aware that they were just beasts at their most base right now: it was one thing to enjoy sexual situations, but letting lust consume you was foolish. "Plebeians," Brittany said, knowing that with people of a lesser intellect the implication of a glare was pointless.  
  
"Oh." Lauren just stood there awkwardly, ducking her gaze. It was eerily reminiscent of Quinn and made Brittany feel a rush of power. She knew, intellectually, that she wasn't being the nicest but who the hell cared? She subscribed to much of existentialism, and in her eyes the world was karmaless and you made of it what you wanted: if Lauren didn't want to be mocked, she should relearn how to be a badass, instead of relying on her status and hot boyfriend to make things easier for her. Brittany believed in being independent.  
  
"Screw off Brittany." Noah snapped, taking a small step forward. Brittany blinked, but it wasn't all that surprising -- she had long since learned that everyone could get nasty, and he was protection his long-time mate. That was just natural.  
  
"If only because I have important work to do, work far above your heads." Brittany sniffed, turning on her heel and stalking off. Picking a fight with Noah right now was hardly a useful addition to her time, and Brittany liked to be efficient. She could hear them murmuring gently to each other and pushed down an admittedly rational but unwanted surge of jealousy. Brittany knew she did not need such romantic entanglements -- she only needed herself, and whatever tools she chose to apply to the task at hand.  
  
Quinn could come along for the ride, maybe.  
  
 **(thou art more lovely and more temperate)**  
  
Noah sighed, pressing another kiss to the side of Lauren's head. She was frowning into her fries and if there was one thing Noah hated, it was to see his other half looking so sad. Lauren was everything to him -- he was like, ninety-nine percent sure she made the sun rise and set, and she was the only reason his heart kept beating. Noah knew they were just in high school, but he also knew they would make it.  
  
"Don't frown. I like your smile." Noah kissed her temple again, and Lauren quirked a weak smile.  
  
"It's just ... I wish I could still stand up to her. I used to do it ... but it seems pointless. I'm happy, she's not, why bother looking for energy to get snarky?" Lauren grabbed a fry and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Noah grinned.  
  
"Not fighting is good. I wouldn't want you hurt." Noah's heart broke at the thought, and squeezed her a little more tightly. Lauren rolled her eyes like she always did when he got touchy-feely in public, but leaned into his touch.  
  
"I don't have to worry about that with you around." Lauren said, and Noah smiled fondly.  
  
"You really don't."  
  
 **(a diva is a female version of a hustla)**  
  
Mercedes took a sip of her pop, choking a little as she laughed at Tina's story about her earlier phone call with her boyfriend. "So he's reciting me this love letter over the phone, and I'm just like, Blaine, babe, I gotta get to lunch!" Tina shook her blonde hair out, amused.  
  
"Needy little bitch." Kurt eyed his clean nails boredly. Mercedes nodded in agreement -- whenever you saw Tina and Blaine together, he was incredibly attentive and caring and nearly died of pleasure when Tina would give him a kiss or acknowledge him. It was pretty pathetic. Mercedes had had a few boyfriends over the years but none of them had tripped over themselves like that, and she was glad.  
  
"Hush, Kurt. Like Finn isn't just as bad." Tina glanced in the direction of Finn, who was staring their way sad puppy expression. Mercedes felt her smile fall a little. Sam was sitting behind them, enjoying his specially prepared fancy food, and Mercedes would bet that Finn was staring at Richie Rich, not Kurt. She sometimes thought she should tell Kurt, but Kurt wasn't exactly loyal to Finn so he probably didn't care if Finn was fooling around on the side. Mercedes had learned one hard lesson in the course of her life: never embarrass yourself, just do what will make you look good. It had landed her solos and boyfriends, so she fully believed in it.  
  
"True enough." Kurt leaned back, grinning. "Wouldn't Finn fucking Anderson be like, really hot? Especially if they were both super needy?"  
  
Mercedes shot a look at Tina, judging by her reaction. When Tina laughed, nodding in agreement, Mercedes chimed in as well. It  _was_  funny after all.  
  
 **(i wish i could quit you)**  
  
Finn sighed happily, watching the way Sam's full lips wrapped around his silver fork, eating some fancy food Finn couldn't even pronounce. Ever since Sam had transferred at the beginning of the year, Finn had wanted him. Badly. Sam had a body cut like a diamond, and was Finn's real type, more than Kurt ever could be.  
  
It wasn't that Kurt wasn't attractive. Sure, he was. He wore all that leather and could do the sort of things with his body that felt incredibly good. Looks weren't everything though, and Finn needed more than that. He needed for his lover to not make him want to scream -- it was just something about Kurt that made him want to punch the guy in the face. He was grating, he was obsessive, and he cheated on Finn on a regular basis and when Finn tried to complain, just accused Finn of being too clingy. Finn might have liked him well enough when they first started dating, but by now he hated Kurt with a passion.  
  
"Hey man." Finn looked up to see Karofsky standing there, looking a little anxious. Finn didn't blame him -- Kurt's favourite target to bully was Karofsky, and just being in the same room would be worrisome.  
  
"What's up?" Finn asked. He had nothing against Karofsky -- sure, he was only in the middle of the social ladder and had been one of the guys Kurt had cheated on him with, but the guy had always been a friend.  
  
"I have a proposition." Karofsky took a seat, glancing at Kurt's table nervously. Kurt was playing with Mercedes hair, suggesting a new haircut or something (he thought he was so great, best at everything, even if he wasn't.) "You want Sam, right?"  
  
Finn nodded. Karofsky was always watching, of course he knew. "I'm going to dump Kurt soon. It'll just be way awkward, since we're like, step-brothers." That was the only reason Finn had waited this long -- he was sort of thinking that after they moved out would be a great time to go for it.  
  
"Don't do it." Finn looked at Karofsky, frowning, and Karofsky rushed to explain. "Stay with him. Marryn him. Then break his heart. I'll pay you."  
  
"Are you serious?" Finn stared. Karofsky nodded. "How much?"  
  
"Trust me," Karofsky muttered. "More than enough."  
  
Finn looked at Kurt, who was flirtily patting the arm of Artimus, who had just walked in with Rachel. Past them, he could just see Sam, shoulders broad against his shirt.  
  
"Cool."  
  
 **(don't need money when you look like that do you honey)**  
  
Sam liked McKinley. Sam liked Nude Erections. Sam liked Kurt, as weird as the guy was. Sam liked Mercedes -- really, really liked Mercedes. Sam used to really like Quinn, until he learned that she was serious about the devil worship. Overall, he liked everything about Lima, Ohio -- except for the very important factor of it not having his family's graves.  
  
It wasn't exactly a secret that Sam's family was dead, but everyone assumed it had happened a long time ago. It hadn't though, in fact it had only been a few years. Sam missed them with a kind of ferocity that surprised him, since he had been at odds with his family for most his life. The grief made it hard to act on all the liking he did. He only wanted to scream, to hit people. He wanted to throw all the money he had inherited into a fire, but at the same time he was too greedy and scared of what he would do without it to ever follow through on that plan.  
  
They said money couldn't buy happiness; perhaps more accurately, money could rarely get you exactly what you wanted. Sam would give it up if it meant having his family back, simple as that. He could skips lunch, stomach growling because they couldn't afford it, if it meant having Stacey and Stevie there to bug him or have his parents send him to bed at night. Poverty would be an easy price for his family's lives, but he knew that it would never happen.  
  
So he spent it -- what was a bit or a lot here and there? He got nice lunches and he helped pay for hotel rooms when they were at Nationals. He let it get to his head, because it was easier to be a snob casually nicknamed Richie Rich by Kurt instead of a freak who broke down crying everywhere like Santana. Much easier.  
  
 **(do you ever feel like a plastic bag)**  
  
Santana sighed, dropping her trash in the garbage and stalking out the cafeteria. She needed to get herself to the library and finish up some extra work for one of her classes. Not her favourite class because she sucked at it like she sucked at everything else, but there was one very nice thing about it: Blaine Anderson. He sat next to her, since they were fellow Glee clubbers and they were elite, and Santana stared at him. A lot.  
  
He was incredibly gorgeous, she knew. She could appreciate those eyelashes, his curls, the set of his shoulders, his tan fingers. She found his rapping obsession oddly endearing, and like every other person capable of breath she swooned a little when he turned on the charm -- that is to say, all the time. If there was any guy at this school she could see herself dating, it was him.  
  
She just wished he did something for her, that she still didn't feel her heart beat a little faster when she saw Brittany change for gym. She hated Brittany, after all. That wasn't something eternal enemies did, check each other out, repressed lesbian or not. Santana was so stupid, so incapable to do anything right, even her attractions.  
  
Santana wasn't even sure she could land Blaine. He was dating Tina (a girl who inspired so much envy in Santana) and was King of the school. He was as likely to date "Santa Stalker" as he was to return to Dalton or declare himself gay. She wasn't even his type -- she wasn't blonde, she wasn't confident, she cried too much.  
  
Still, he did these little things that made her feel that things might not be hopeless. He always shared notes with her, touched the small of her back as they left class, laughed at her cautious jokes. He made her feel stronger, just by showing that he didn't mind everything that was wrong about her.  
  
There he was, seated at one of the library tables, scribbling at his worksheets. Taking a deep breath, Santana walked up. "Hey," she said softly. He glanced at her, then smiled. "Can I sit down?"  
  
"Sure shawty, ain't no biggie." Blaine pulled the chair next to him out, and Santana sat down carefully. "Need something?"  
  
"I need you." Santana's hands flew to her mouth, horrified. How had that slipped out? She had managed to sit on her stupid infatuation for weeks now, and she blurted it just like that? Blaine was going to hate her, he wouldn't want to sit near her, he was going to reject her --  
  
"Santana." Santana looked up cautiously. Blaine's expression was strange, eyes unsure and mouth a tight line. "Santana, I care about you, I do." Santana felt a flicker of hope that was quickly put out. "But you aren't my type. I need someone ... more like me."  
  
"Oh." Santana looked down, feeling wetness burning at her eyes. "Alright. I get it. It's okay." She jumped to her feet, pushing the chair away and trying to blink back the tears. "Sorry to bother you, I'll go."  
  
"Santana--"  
  
"Sorry," Santana repeated, beating a quick retreat. To make things worse she could see Brittany standing in the Physics section, smirking at her. This rejection would be all over the school in about five minutes -- the only thing that could make it better would to get Blaine. She would have to try, prove to everyone that she wasn't a complete failure. Prove to  _Brittany_ that she wasn't a complete failure.  
  
 **(there's a river in egypt)**  
  
Blaine watched Santana run off, fiddling with his pen anxiously. He wanted to chase after her, but that would give her the wrong idea. He didn't want that -- he just wanted to be friends. He had been so sure that Santana wasn't interested in him, and it felt nice to take a break from having every single girl in school fawn over him. Not that Blaine didn't want to be a stud -- he totally did. He just sometimes wanted something a little ... different.  
  
Tina wasn't different. She was like all the others, only after his looks and status and charm. She didn't really care about who he was; none of them did. Not the girls, not the boys. They just let themselves fall for him and didn't think twice about the man behind the greatness.  
  
Kurt didn't do that, not really. Blaine couldn't stand the guy, but he appreciated that. Kurt never hesitated to say exactly what he was thinking, all the time, and that had come in a series of comments aimed to cutting Blaine down to size. His clothes, his hair, his attitude -- "God, Anderson, why are you such a douchebag?" There was something weirdly refreshing about the snarkiness, which was Blaine's only excuse for my he thought so much about a guy he hated.  
  
Otherwise, it was a mystery. Why Blaine couldn't stop admiring the way those leather pants laced up the sides of Kurt's long legs, or his beautiful voice. Why Blaine couldn't explain that feeling he got when Kurt body checked him during basketball in gym class and managed to slide a hand down Blaine's arm in his usual inappropriate way -- if it was disgust, it was a new kind to Blaine.  
  
Sometimes, late at night, Blaine allowed himself to wonder if he might be -- no. He had never felt like that, never. Blaine liked girls, and he was attracted to girls. Tina just wasn't his type, or Santana -- maybe Blaine should try with other girls, see what would happen. It wasn't like Tina would dump him -- she needed him, just as much as he needed her.  
  
 **(and it's called denial)**  
  
Kurt tilted his chin this way and that, examining his jawline in the mirror, the hickey Finn had left him. Being marked like that, claimed, actually did strange things to Kurt's heart, a fact that bothered him deeply. Finn was just for sex, and free dinners and movie dates. At most, Kurt could care for him in capacity of a step-brother, but when it came to their relationship-relationship, Kurt was too sex addicted to be tied down.  
  
Next to him Tina was reapplying her blush, eyes distant. Kurt nodded in approval -- Tina had asked him for a makeover ages ago, and he thought he had done an excellent job and was glad to see her up-keeping it properly. "You've gotten so good at that," Kurt complimented.  
  
"Thanks." Tina winked, closing her blush with a snap and tucking everything away in her makeup bag. "So how are things with Finn?" For a second he thought her tone sounded off, but he brushed it off as his imagination. "Why was he talking to Karofsky?"  
  
No idea. "Probably agreeing to my threesome suggestion -- he's been weirdly hesitant about it for like, forever." Kurt shook his head sadly. "Not that I have any intention of letting Karofsky near this--" Kurt gestured at his ass "--again. Loser had his chance, and he doesn't do it for me anymore." Little bit of a lie there, since nearly every guy did it for Kurt, but he wasn't going to admit that.  
  
"Work it." Tina nodded in approval, tucking a strand of her blonde hair into place. Kurt knew the importance of that approval, and gave her a once-over for more to work with. "Boys gotta know that we're in charge, right?"  
  
Kurt wasn't a girl, a fact Tina liked to forget. It didn't really bother him though. "I wear the pants, for sure. You need to touch up your roots, by the way."  
  
"Appointment this Saturday," Tina replied immediately, making a face in the mirror. "I'm all over that. Date with Blaine afterwards." Tina's taste in men could use some work -- the only appealing thing about Blaine was that his face was built for blowjobs.  
  
"Work it," Kurt said, a little snarky. "C'mon, let's go find Mercedes."  
  
 **(interlude end)**


	8. dream biggest

The car ride was -- well, awkward. Blaine had no other word for it, though something about the word awkward implied he wasn't using his fantastic charm to grease the wheels of socialization per usual. How did you do that here though? A flutter of the lashes, a charming aw-shucks joke about Canadians and all the mile-wide grins in the world couldn't combat this situation.  
  
Finn, dressed in a bondage shirt from his parallel-step-brother, telling Kurt all he had missed. Kurt, eyebrows high enough to get a penthouse view, unsure of how to take statements like that smell wasn't me commingled with and then they did it. with their penises. Not-Kurt was humming something that sounded like  _Candy Shop_  while sending Blaine filthy looks, all, _Wanna get drinks so I can peel the label lustfully?_ Blaine was caught between playing along with the flirting and remembering that his boyfriend was in the back seat. Really, there was no way Blaine could forget, when every time he talked to not-Kurt ("Shit don't hit that van, there might be orphans inside!" "Orphans can't afford vans, baby.") Kurt would reach over and pinch Blaine's waist. Which wasn't sexy in the least, a little to Blaine's disappoint and a lot to his growing discomfort.  
  
"Kurt, honey, I love you, but I'm telling our gay couples therapist about that," Blaine finally snapped, rubbing the reddened area. Not-Kurt sniggered.  
  
"Trouble in paradise?"  
  
v "We don't attend couples therapy, gay or otherwise," Kurt practically snarled. "Blaine and I are in a healthy, mature relationship and I won't have him saying otherwise so he can run off into your skinny, skanky arms."  
  
"They're like, your arms though too, aren't they?" Finn asked, quieting when Kurt turned an icy glare on him. It was so cold that the temperature in the car dropped a little and Mr Freeze of _Batman and Robin_ was probably cracking an ice-related pun.  
  
"Kurt, I'm not leaving you for your parallel universe self. He's just being friendly." Blaine said calmly, while not-Kurt began to hum through  _Rocket Ride_  while idly playing with the laces of Blaine's pants. Blaine shuddered. Out of fear. Not-Kurt was going to kill them and make the weirdest accident report on the face of the planet.  
  
"Seems like flirting to me," Kurt said.  
  
"Same thing for him, really." Blaine smacked lightly at not-Kurt's hand. "I like it better when you use two hands," he said, more than a little nervously, watching not-Kurt zoom past a stop sign. Blaine wondered if not-Kurt's driving instructor had been smitten/blind enough to mark that as a rolling stop when he was being licensed.  
  
"No problem," not-Kurt said cheerily, performing an interesting feat of flexibility by bringing a foot up to the steering wheel while both of his hands landed in the general vicinity of Blaine's crotch (read: right on top of it.) Kurt let out an animalistic (and if Blaine was being honest, which he always was, very hot) growl and tried to dive for not-Kurt, but Finn yanked him back just in time.  
  
Blaine threw off not-Kurt's hands while Kurt struggled against Finn's octopus-armed hold on him. "Finn, let me go, I need to tear the little slut's eyeballs out!"  
  
"Kurt," Blaine said. "Don't be rude, and don't touch him. If you do, we'll have problems. Like, problems the size of space and time itself. Do you really want to know how the Doctor feels every day? Because trust me, it's a misery."  
  
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, calmer. Calmer in the sense that he was no longer trying to snap Finn's arms to get at his doppelgänger. Finn gently patted Kurt's leg as he held his brother, but since Kurt was no longer trying to escape it just looked like a very sweet cuddle.  
  
"I mean I'm emphasizing with the character, not that I'm the Doctor. You've seen my sonic screwdriver," Blaine explained. Not-Kurt giggled, and Blaine rushed to add, "It's just a plastic replica." Not-Kurt giggled harder, which just impaired his driving even more. At least he was using both hands on the wheel now.  
  
"I know that," Kurt said impatiently. "What exactly goes wrong if I touch him? Other than his ability to not bleed all over the car upholstery."  
  
"Basically, you two can't occupy the same space. If you touch, we might get sent home."  
  
"I can't believe you didn't tell me about that until now," Kurt said with frantic disbelief to his tone. Only a slight one. Blaine thought Kurt was handling this entire situation very well.  
Then Kurt threw himself at not-Kurt again, Finn's continued hold the only thing that kept them from making contact. Not-Kurt looked genuinely frightened for a second, and it was such a first that Blaine decided it was time to put his foot down. "Kurt! We don't want that to happen!"  
  
"Don't you dare take that tone with me Blaine Anderson." Kurt hissed. "I want to go home. I want my dad, and I want my school, I want my friends. I just want my life back. Right now I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole, and it's the brown acid Disney version, and I'll tell you that it is not a good trip. Actually, no. That's a bad metaphor. It's more like, that weird acid trip from _Dumbo_ with the extra dash of missing parents and bullies and ears that are larger than normal."  
  
"I liked the first one better, but you definitely outshine me on the metaphor front either way," Blaine said feebly. Coming from Kurt, his last name made a Pavlovian puppy out of him and Blaine couldn't help but feel he had done something very wrong. The obvious solution was to flatter his way out of trouble. "And I like your ears. They're cute."  
  
"That's not the point. Point is, why are we hanging around this upside-down world when our ticket home is sitting there wearing my clothes." Kurt glared at not-Kurt then turned his gaze on Blaine, and some of his anger softened. "Please, Blaine."  
  
"Kurt, I want to get you home too. But not-Brittany and -Quinn are still out there and this whole thing will just repeat itself if we don't stop them somehow." Blaine reached over, manoeuvring past Finn's lanky limbs in order to find Kurt's hand and hold on tight. Kurt nodded slowly, but he looked unconvinced.  
  
"What if we get stuck here?" Kurt looked between each of them in turn. "That's definitely one sci-fi soap opera I wouldn't want to be a part of."  
  
"I promise you, on the sanctity of Pavarotti's tiny, bedazzled casket that I will get us home no matter what," Blaine said solemnly, and Kurt finally smiled, albeit cautiously. For a long moment they weren't in a speeding car in a parallel universe; it was just Kurt and Blaine like it always would be and always had been, the two of them in a private little world nobody could touch.  
  
Except for not-Kurt, via benefit of being one of them, who of course decided to ruin the moment.  
  
"Luciano doesn't really strike me the tiny, bedazzled type, but who knows." Not-Kurt spun the wheel to take a turn at deathly speed, but Blaine was comforted to at least realize they were near the Hummel-Hudson household, their destination.  
  
"Oh shut up," Kurt sighed, slumping back against Finn. At least he didn't seem interested in fighting any more.  
  
"Can you guys just be nicer to each other?" Finn asked suddenly, frowning at each of them in turn. "I mean, I get that there's some weird kinda love triangle thing going on here, but in the end you and him are the same person and Blaine you should be happier about having that."  
  
"I guess," Blaine murmured, glancing between Kurt and not-Kurt. "But seeing as how there's no chance of a threesome without breaking the laws of the universe ... and, I mean, there's no guarantee you have to like somebody who looks like you but seems to be doing things wrong."  
  
"Did you say threesome?" Not-Kurt and Kurt said simultaneously.  
  
"I said nothing of the sort." Blaine waved his free hand. "I only pointed out that humans don't like what they can't understand, and this is definitely a mind-bending experience."  
  
"I think a threesome with two versions of your boyfriend would be pretty mind-bending," not-Kurt persisted, as he pulled to a screeching stop in the Hummel-Hudson driveway.  
  
"Ignoring Merv the Perv over there," Kurt said loudly, before continuing in a more normal tone. "I think you have a point. I've been so freaked out by finding all this stuff was real that I've been behaving awfully. I'm sorry Blaine, Finn. And I guess you too, other me."  
  
"Aw, thanks hunnybun," not-Kurt said with a flutter of his lashes as he undid his seatbelt, then got out of the car. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand again to show that he didn't blame Kurt in the least before extricating his arm from the pretzel of Kurt and Finn and getting out as well. A few moments later Kurt and Finn had untangled themselves and joined not-Kurt and Blaine on the front porch.  
  
"So you know, I obeyed your orders to come here, but why exactly?" Not-Kurt asked as he used his key to open the front door, ushering them inside, Blaine taking the lead. "Is there something here that could help take down Braintanny and Darkness Falls?"  
  


"No," Blaine said, stopping in the living room and gesturing to the loveseat."But they are." 

xx

Not-Brittany and -Quinn had been cuddling when the group walked in, but sprang apart, shock clear on their faces. "Wait -- what? How did you know?" Not-Quinn asked.

  
"Isn't it clear?" Not-Brittany asked, scowling. "Other-Blaine is more genre savvy than I initially gave him credit for."

"If we dated, would you still be calling me other-Blaine? Because that hurts." Blaine wandered idly over to stand in front of the pair as they rose to their feet, but not before waving at the Kurts to stay back. Finn obviously wasn't certain if this vague hand gesture had been meant for him as well, because he hovered somewhere in between Blaine and Kurt and not- Kurt. "But yes, I guessed. Why else would the dumpster not be guarded when we came back? Obviously you were waiting for us where we least expected, which would translate as where we felt safest." Blaine grinned suddenly. "I am so good at this."

"So what if you guessed?" Not-Brittany made a dismissive noise. "We still have the advantage, with my superior intellect and Quinn's voodoo."

Blaine blinked, then frowned. "Oh yeah." He was hoping for a last minute save, to be honest.

"It's not voodoo, " not-Quinn said tensely. "It's Satanically-inclined magience. That you would mix them up is pretty offensive for voodoo practitioners everywhere."

"Oh, go start a charity," not-Brittany said, disgusted. "I don't give a shit. Voodoo, wicca-wacca, magience -- power is power no matter what you call it and I need you to use your power to blast the head off every person in this room who isn't gorgeous." Not-Brittany sent a hungry look to Blaine, who preened -- but only a little bit. He had standards, dammit.

Not-Quinn raised her eyebrows, and for the first time there was strong hint of the Ice Queen in her steely gaze. "And who would that be, mistress? I think Kurt is gorgeous, and Finn is probably pretty gorgeous to Kurt, and you're gorgeous to me, but you might not be gorgeous to Blaine."

"Gorgeous is a funny word," Finn muttered, laughing quietly. Louder, he added. "And you're way hot to me other-Quinn, even if you're like, evil or whatever."

Not-Quinn blushed. "Really? Why?"

"Why?" Finn squinted. "Your hair is like, nice, and your eyes are fun to stare into like whoa! they're hypnotizing! but I mean I never get hypnotized to do the chicken dance or anything like my ninth birthday party with that asshole magician. Um. Oh yeah! Your lips have a great shape and you're a great kisser and your body is way perfect, even now, and just your face, you know?" Finn beamed proudly at her, and not-Quinn got redder. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You do realize this isn't your Quinn, right?" Kurt asked. "And you're lucky as hell that Rachel isn't here."

"I think we're all lucky for that," not-Kurt said, and Kurt laughed cattily in delight. Blaine pouted. If Brittany was his soul sister Rachel was his soul biffle.

"What does he mean, your Quinn?" Not-Brittany asked, eyes narrowed.

"Me and Quinn dated. The broke up. Then dated again. Then broke up. Then sorta dated again but not really. Now I'm dating Rachel." Finn shrugged.

"I can't believe you can remember all that but not my birthday," Kurt said. Blaine knew that Kurt was still bitter about Finn thinking the party was for himself and opening up trying on a Marc Jacobs sweater which hadn't draped properly since.

"I looked good in it dude," Finn said comfortably. Clearly wearing the bondage shirt had made him more receptive to unusual wardrobe choices.

"What's the other me like?" Not-Quinn asked. "Why would a guy like other-Finn date her?"

"She's one of those girls who likes to be in charge, likes to stand up for herself," Blaine said pointedly, staring intently at not-Quinn.

"Stop right there!" Not-Brittany said, taking a step forward and poking Blaine in the chest.

" _I need somebody with a human touch,_ " Blaine sang back.

Not-Brittany looked livid. She drove her dagger-nailed finger in deeper, and he winced. "I won't have you manipulating my minion to your side."

"Yeah," not-Quinn said, crossing her arms.

"Besides," not-Brittany continued. "You couldn't erase years of emotional and mental abuse just by giving her a you matter speech."

"Abuse?" Not-Quinn asked, voice cracking slightly. "So you mean -- it's not a sex game? You really don't respect me?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, shut up you dumb shit!" Not-Brittany shouted. "We're supposed to have a united front so we can get everything we want."

Not-Quinn's face crumpled and stumbled back, legs hitting the sofa. She looked like every inch of her heart was breaking. "Oh," she said quietly, before her spine stiffened and her chin jutted up angrily. Her gaze could deep freeze a desert. A hot desert, as the term desert could include arctic ice fields that didn't receive much rainfall, and freezing something already chilled wasn't as impressive. Either way -- it was cold. "I see how it is."

Blaine ignored the pain and leaned into not-Brittany, giving her a bright grin. "If it wasn't obvious, Geniego, you just made a huge mistake."

Not-Brittany looked between Blaine and not-Quinn, eyes wide. "It was a sex game! A sex game! Why didn't you use the safeword!"

"It seems you never told me what it was," not-Quinn hissed. "Tell me, was it don't piss off the witch? or maybe it was everything 'we' want is actually what you want. Yeah, I like that one." Not-Quinn reached up, fiddling with the pendant at her neck. "I'm not going to help you, because it's not what I want. What I want is to make things between us a little more ... equal."

Blaine quickly walked backwards as not-Brittany stared at not-Quinn in disbelief. He grabbed Finn, and pulled him over to the two Kurts, giving not-Quinn plenty of room to do her thing.

"Geniego," not-Kurt murmured into Blaine's ear. "Genius. I love it."

"What are you going to do to me?" Not-Brittany regained her confidence. "In case you don't remember, you signed a magical contract allotting me the power to stop you from using your powers. A word from me, and your magic is sealed for life."

Not-Quinn didn't answer, still fiddling with her pendant and glaring at not-Brittany.

"I'm sorry that I'll have to use it," not-Brittany said, not entirely insincere. "I thought this day would never come, that you would never betray me -- but all good things, right?" She sighed heavily, then looked up, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

" _BESTRAFEN!_ " Not-Brittany chanted loudly, waving her arms like the Whomping Willow.

Not-Quinn stopped playing with her pendant, hands falling to her side. Her eyes dimmed a little and her chin drooped. Blaine thought it looked as if she had been powered down, pun intentional.

"This isn't good," not-Kurt whispered as not-Brittany flipped her hair. Blaine shushed him.

"So, seeing as how I just defeated your only hope ..." not-Brittany laughed. "I'll come claim my prize --" A sinister cackle cut her off, the lights flickering and a tremor passing through the air like razor wire, causing items around the room to rattle. Blaine reached out blindly and grabbed for a hand to hold, ending up with Finn's. Finn squeezed Blaine's hand tightly, and not-Kurt swore sharply behind him and Kurt grabbed Blaine's other hand.

Not-Brittany looked back over to not-Quinn, who was still standing motionless, but there was something odd happening. It was like the movie version of the Philosopher's Stone. Her skin was drying out, darkening and flaking, her clothes were disintegrating in an unappealing way, her hair was falling lank and brittle and then, horrifyingly, one of her arms simply fell off and landed with a _clunk_ on the carpet.

Somebody screamed, though nobody there would ever confess to it. Next it was her other arm, then her now brown head rolled right off her shoulders and hit the floor. Her gaping neck wound revealed nothing but dirt, and Blaine realized what it was as it collapsed into a pile in the floor.

"A golem!" Blaine shouted, just as a large gust of wind blew in from nowhere and gathered up the remains, swirling them into a noisy, dirty whirlwind. In case everyone hadn't heard him he shouted it again, but louder. Life would be much easier if things just got quiet when he opened his mouth to reveal his intelligence and grace. "A FUCKING GOLEM!"

"WE HEARD YOU," not-Brittany yelled back, sounding like she barely had a grip on her fear. Blaine understood -- she was the only other one here who would get the implications of this creature. "But how?!" She suddenly froze, body posed unnaturally.

"Here's the thing about that contract." The whirlwind fell away to reveal not-Quinn, not just alive, but with cheeks rosy with delight and eyes that were sparking. "It only works if I'm in front of you -- and guess who learned how to make golems so she could avoid having to actually sleep with Blanderson? Guess who wanted to keep it a special surprise until today? Guess who used a golem today because she wanted to be able to protect her mistress in a dramatic, joking 'I'm not fatally wounded way?' Guess who never expected to have her mistress to be the one to hurt her?" Not-Quinn was speaking in that eerily deep and evil voice of hers. Not-Brittany was still frozen, but her eyes exuding pure rage.

"But if you didn't sleep with other me -- how did you know about me?" Blaine piped up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Part of the story was true." Not-Quinn admitted. "Just smoke some magience herbs and get ready to astral project to many worlds. That night, while my golem did it for me, I saw your world, and you." She shrugged. 

"Now," not-Quinn walked over to not-Brittany's still form. "Time for revenge. I'm a little unsure about what to do, so if the audience could help ..?"

"Put her in overalls!" Kurt suggested immediately, clearly having noticed not-Brittany's stylish outfit.

"Turn her into a frog!" Blaine believed in classics. "Or a rat! Yes please, a rat! It's lesbian magic fantastic!"

"Make her never able to have sex again!" Not-Kurt declared. "Then make her want sex!"

"Yeah, make her want sex! Make out with her! Touch her boobs!" Finn said excitedly, palm sweaty against Blaine's. Blaine let go with a wrinkle of his nose.

"Ew," Blaine, Kurt and not-Kurt said, though not-Quinn made a face of consideration before shaking her head.

"No. I need something else. Something better." Not-Quinn tapped not-Brittany's forehead thoughtfully. "Wait -- Kurt."

"Yes?" The Kurts replied.

"My Kurt," not-Quinn clarified. "I think you know what I need."

"Hm?" Not-Kurt leaned forward, slouching (slightly!) so his chin could rest on Blaine's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist. "Ignoring the heterosexiness of that statement, what is it you mean?"

"Remember how long ago, you told me that if I could actually do magic, I should be doing incredible things?" Not-Quinn tapped not-Brittany's forehead again. "I can't quite remember what you suggested, but it was good -- I just didn't have anyone to use it on until now."

"Oh!" Not-Kurt straightened suddenly, which made him thrust against Blaine in a way that Blaine tried very hard to pretend wasn't awesome because, hello, his boyfriend had a tight grip on his poor little fingers. "I remember that! Though I don't see how that's a punishment. And sorry honey, I hate to  _rub in_  what you have to miss out on. It was sophomore year ..." as not-Kurt told his story, Blaine glanced at Kurt, who had an eyebrow raised. He had clearly picked up on that one of those sentences wasn't like the others.

Blaine made an apologetic face as not-Kurt grinded him slightly, and to his great surprise Kurt only smiled. A very tight smile, but it was better than somebody getting their eyeballs torn out.

His breath caught when Kurt shuffled closer, careful to avoid not-Kurt and murmured into his ear, "It's not your fault."

Well, Blaine was expecting something a tad hotter, but that was nice too. He pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek as his boyfriend pulled away and Kurt's smile became more natural.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your threesome," not-Quinn interrupted. "But I thought my rising up and getting vengeance against the person who's mistreated me most of my life would be of some interest." She was using such a stern teacher voice that Blaine felt like it was French class in Dalton all over again, where Kurt's handle on the language did interesting things _dedans son pantalons_.

"Apologies." Kurt stepped away from Blaine, but still held on to his hand. Not-Kurt was laughing softly behind them. He had stopped grinding against Blaine, at least. "Please, don't let us interfere with your revenge."

"Thank you." Not-Quinn walked around not-Brittany, chanting quietly and making hand motions that looked suspiciously like cat's cradle sans string. Then she took off her pendant, and carefully draped it over not-Brittany's head. For a moment her face was filled with longing as she brushed a hand down the curve of not-Brittany's cheek, but it vanished quickly and her features hardened. "This is for your own good, you know. Now you can't hurt anyone else and then feel bad about it when your brain reconnects with your soul."

Not-Quinn stepped away then, closed her eyes and shouted something very strange that the English alphabet would never be able to capture. (Sadly, Blaine planned to use said alphabet while writing his novel. He'd probably have to just put in a placeholder, like _Abra Cadabra!_ ) There was a blinding flash of light, and where not-Brittany had been standing was a pile of clothes. Everyone but not-Quinn shared disturbed glances, before one tiny arm stuck out and a loud wail filled the air. Not-Quinn stepped forward, gently picking up the bundle and pulling away a sleeve to reveal the bright-red face of a squalling baby.

"Shh," not-Quinn said, bouncing the baby slightly. It calmed, and not-Quinn looked to them with a small smile.

"That's what you get from use your magic to make someone entirely at your mercy?" Not-Kurt clucked disapprovingly. "You gotta think a little sexier, darling."

"I think it was a good plan," Finn said, walking forward to join not-Quinn. He looked down at the baby with a curious expression and Kurt made the same tongue-cluck of disapproval that not-Kurt had. Blaine squeezed his hand gently, knowing that deep down Kurt was just worried that Finn would end up causing more ridiculous Quinn-baby-related drama when they got back. Well. Maybe that wasn't so deep down, judging by the distasteful expression Kurt wore.

"This way she can be raised right, by parents who take the time to care for her and pay attention to her and stop her from becoming a psycho, like Norman Bates raised by Mr Rogers. Maybe she'll grow up and meet a Santana or a Quinn she can actually love, or maybe a non-douchebaggy Blaine." Not-Quinn's sighed wistfully. "And I'll check up on her."

"You won't raise her yourself?" Finn asked.

"I've had sex with her. That would be creepy." Not-Quinn said. "I would never be able to look at her and see anything but my mistress."

"She needs a new name then," not-Kurt said, wandering out from behind Blaine. "Personally, I like Stefani, or Joanne. Ooh! Angelina!"

"There's a joke there about sounds babies make but I won't be the one to make it," Kurt said sotto voce to Blaine, who sniggered.

Finn opened his mouth to suggest something, but not-Quinn cut him off. "I like Elizabeth, personally. It was my nun nana's name." Finn started, gaping at not-Quinn, who was looking down at the baby. "Beth if you're lazy. Or like KISS. Or both. Likely both."

"Isn't that a neat little bow?" Kurt commented lowly. "Knowing you, you're going to write about this. Change the ending so other-Quinn sets Brittany on fire and makes a few bad quips about 'Never again the burning times.'"

"I like this, it's sweeter," Blaine said, leaning into Kurt, who laughed. He loved that Kurt knew him.

"You're just a big softie."

"You love it. You love me."

"I do." Kurt and Blaine shared another one of those moments with just them, but this time not-Kurt was too busy suggesting names for the baby to interrupt them and it lasted much longer. It was as close to perfect things could get, considering the leather was starting to chafe and Blaine's underwear were hidden in a toilet tank upstairs and Kurt smelt like a dump. With a smile, he raised Kurt's hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.

"I believe it's time for me to escort my gentleman home."


	9. we made it this far

They were still in the living room, standing in a loose circle. Blaine had Kurt on one hand and not-Kurt on the other, and it was interesting to note that they held hands the same way. Not-Quinn was holding baby Beth (the artist formerly known as Brittany) and Finn still looked all confused about what his feelings were doing at the sight of them.  
  
"So how do we get back?" Blaine asked. "That is, without taking not-Kurt with us?"  
  
"Maybe I'd like to go with you," not-Kurt pouted, holding on tighter to Blaine's hand. "I like you. Like-like you. Our sex life would be fantastic." He said this in such a sincere manner that Blaine felt his heart twist. Why was the universe cockblocking him? Then Kurt coughed and Blaine remembered that his boyfriend would also cockblock him. Shoot.  
  
"The universe gives us missed connections so we can better appreciate the ones we do have," Blaine assured, because romance novels were the best example of fate at play in any medium.   
  
"But if you leave, you'll be gone forever. So will my sweetheart Finn." Not-Kurt looked over at Finn, who was wearing an expression of growing sadness as not-Kurt's words hit home. "I already lost someone important to me today, I don't want to lose more."  
  
"What about your Blaine?" Kurt asked. "I mean, he must exist, since he's been having sex with piles of dirt."  
  
"Blanderson is straight," not-Kurt replied. "Apparently there's a whole sexuality changing magic power at work in our world. Or something. I wasn't paying that much attention at the time."  
  
Blaine remembered that was due to not-Kurt groping him and checking him out, and couldn't help but frown. They had almost had it all, rolling in the deep waters of sexual compatibility.   
  
To distract himself from these sad thoughts, Blaine tried to explain to Kurt. "Carole is married to your mom, who is a lesbian. Finn is gay. I'm straight. Santana is claiming straight but she and Brittany had a hate-attraction thing going on. Quinn is gay. Things are different here."  
  
"Actually, I'm bi," not-Quinn said. "I just never wanted to leave her side."   
  
"Maybe things aren't so different," Kurt said, looking at not-Quinn with interest. "Last week, our Quinn, while making fun of Santana and Rachel having a Sappho-esque duet said that they could write a novel called  _Fun Things to do with Man-Hands_. She's pretty repressed."  
  
"What about our moms? And me?" Finn pointed out. "I mean, pretending you're straight is normal. Nobody pretends to be gay."  
  
"Charming. Finn, your mother is bisexual," Kurt said slowly. "I honestly thought you knew. That's why my dad was so upset with you being homophobic, he thought you wouldn't care with Carole and all."  
  
"That's what he meant? I thought he was just saying my mom is awesome, 'cause she is." Finn grew pensive. "I guess that explains why there were so many ladies stealing my cereal in the mornings."  
  
"I'm glad it doesn't bother you," Kurt said, shaking his head. "As for my mom, dad's never said but she used to be a cheerleader. In Lima, that's apparently sign of lesbian urges. Trust me, I shared their changeroom for a while. It was like soft-core porn."  
  
"I wish my audition for the Cheerios had been better," Finn said fervently, distraught.  
  
"Is that what you're bothered by?" Blaine asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Really?"  
  
"What else is there?" Finn asked. "Dude, cheerleaders making out. That's like the opposite of sad."  
  
"They're proving, inch by inch, that you have urges for inches. By which I mean dick." Not-Kurt smirked. "Something you want to tell us, sweetheart?"  
  
"But I  _don't_  want dick," Finn said. "I've looked at your dude's porn. I don't think it's for me. No offence."  
  
"Suuuure," not-Kurt said, and Blaine had to agree that he was curious about why and when Finn looked up gay porn. Still, Finn had been such a good sport about everything and Blaine decided to let him off the hook.  
  
"Maybe in this world, the big change for a couple of people is their sexuality," Blaine said. "So Finn is gay, or he's bi and leans more that way because his mother is more open about her own sexuality, or he just got caught under not-Kurt's sexy spell, and that makes him different from our Finn. Kind of like how the difference between Kurt and not-Kurt seems to be their sex drives."  
  
"I have a sex drive. I just don't flaunt it like a two-bit burlesque dancer," Kurt said defensively.  
  
"Burlesque dancer?" Not-Kurt repeated, confused.  
  
"I saw your wardrobe," Kurt said scornfully. Not-Kurt shot him a look. Blaine, tired of them squabbling over his head, gave their hands a quick squeeze.  
  
"What's important is that maybe this other-me isn't straight, and I've gathered that he's only had this white rapping thing going on since he left Dalton. You might have a shot," Blaine said to not-Kurt. "I'd like to think me and Kurt belong together no matter the world." Kurt bit back a smile.  
  
"Could you make me some syrup from all that sap?" Not-Kurt asked, but he had an interested gleam in his eyes.  
  
"Stop waffling," not-Quinn said. "We have serious things to discuss, like how you're going to get home."  
  
"Then speak, O wise witch," Kurt said, and earned a glare from not-Quinn.  
  
"Just because I stood up for myself doesn't mean I'm going to become nice all of a sudden. I _am_ inclined to Satan. So don't piss me off."  
  
"I don't know, the Mayor was practically the devil himself, but he was always the nicest," Blaine said. "I so wanted him to be my dad." This got blank stares from everyone. Apparently, much like Joss, his daddy issues were unappreciated. "Just tell us how to get home. Please."  
  
"You have to go back up to the original portal. Since my Kurt is staying here, I'm going to have to edit the spell which will be more difficult, and doing it where portal-magic's already been will help make it easier." Not-Quinn began to walk toward the stairs and the group followed, and soon they were all in not-Kurt's bedroom. There, she handed the baby to Finn. "Here, hold her while I cast the spell."  
  
"Whoa." The baby was dwarfed by his arms. Finn kept very still, barely breathing. Blaine's heart warmed at the sight. He hoped his future husband was that sweet with kids. He looked to not-Kurt, who was not-so-subtly checking out Kurt's ass. Alright.  
  
Not-Quinn was kneeling by the bed, hands tracing sigils on the duvet while the four of them and the baby hung back. To pass the time, they sang an impromptu version of  _Bad Romance_  as baby Beth gurgled the  _rah rah ooh la las_. It was almost as if some parts of Brittany's mind still lurked down there. Luckily children didn't remember anything that happened before the age of three.  
  
"Okay, there." When not-Quinn rose to her feet, she looked a drained, swaying on the spot. Kurt reached out to steady her, and not-Quinn flashed him a small smile. "I need a couple of strands of hair from all of the other-yous. That way it recognizes you." They obliged, Kurt with some reluctance, reaching up to pluck out a couple of hairs, not-Kurt helping Finn because of Finn's occupied arms. To Blaine's horror, that constant on-and-off of his clothes had made his gel loosen and his curls were partly free. This must be how ugly people felt, but without the confidence that they were still attractive.  
  
"And with that ..." not-Quin twisted the hairs together then dropped them on the bed. There was a flash, the sharp scent of sulphur to the air, and then the bed looked -- weird. Like it was only half-there, yet concrete at the same time. Blaine blinked, accepted it, and moved on. It was time to go home.  
  
"Thanks, you've helped us a lot. Sorry it came at the price of your girlfriend, but you were too good for her," Blaine said, and not-Quinn shrugged as she took Beth back from Finn.  
  
"I agree, I was. So I thank you for helping me realize that." Not-Quinn smirked. "Besides, now that I’ve discovered how great it is to take charge and actually use my powers, I think it’s time the Queen and King got kicked off their thrones."  
  
"You’re going to overthrow the British monarchy?" Blaine asked, eyes wide.  
  
"No," not-Quinn replied, giving Blaine a look. "That’s not even a king and queen. No, I’m going to become the new ruler of William McKinley High. It’s time they got a new Queen."  
  
"I think overthrowing the British monarchy is cooler, but whatever. It’s not like the lady’s isn’t jubiletic in a pile of diamonds,” Blaine grumbled. Not-Kurt stepped out around Blaine, expression interested.  
  
"A Queen without a King?" Not-Kurt asked idly, propping his hands on his hips. "That doesn’t seem right."  
  
Not-Quinn blinked, looking not-Kurt up and down. "I’m not going to be your beard."  
  
"Beards couldn’t cling to my lovely smooth skin, no worries." Not-Kurt chuckled. "But trust me, you won’t go anywhere without me. Who do you think made our current Queen Bee buzz?"  
  
The baby in her arms suddenly squalled, wiggling. "We’ll talk." Not-Quinn said, rocking it slowly. Not-Kurt nodded, smirking. Finn continued to stare at the baby, until not-Kurt got up in his face. Finn started, along with everyone else.  
  
"Since it's time to say bye," not-Kurt said softly, eyes big as he draped his arms over Finn's shoulders, one hand sliding to the back of Finn's neck to pull him into a kiss. Finn squeaked but didn't push not-Kurt away, his hands instead settling on not-Kurt's waist as if he wanted to draw him closer. Kurt made a horrified noise and Blaine would have shielded his eyes if there weren't two hot guys making out in front of him and removing his ability to function.  
  
They pulled apart after a long moment, not-Kurt still staring at Finn mournfully and Finn with the dopiest look of pleasure and disbelief on his face. Blaine licked his lips as not-Kurt turned to him, expression expectant.  
  
"I don't know how to do this goodbye," Blaine said as not-Kurt walked over. "We've ... been through a lot together."  
  
"Gotten into some ... sticky situations," not-Kurt agreed, reaching out to cup Blaine's face in his hands. Blaine leaned into the touch, smiling softly.  
  
"Done things that others could only dream of, and done it in leather," Blaine sighed, running a hand down his thigh. "Can I keep the pants? I'll wear them and think of you. In the privacy of my bedroom, because hello, these don't really fit my wardrobe."  
  
"Wear them in your bed as much as you like," not-Kurt said. "It'll be like my legs are tangled up with yours, all close and probably kind of sweaty. Those sure are tight on you." Not-Kurt looked down, eyes fixed below Blaine's waist with a despondent edge to his gaze. "So tight."  
  
"That's what he said," Blaine said, then choked a little. He hated goodbyes.  
  
"That's what we  _would_  be saying, if you stayed," not-Kurt said. "We can lock other-you in a closet. Please. We're perfect for each other."  
  
Blaine finally understood Oscar Wilde on temptation. "Kurt --"  
  
"May I remind you that I, in fact, am Kurt and this is -- what do you call them, not-Kurt?" Kurt's voice was practically dripping with hurt and venom like a pouty snake. Blaine twisted to look at him, face still framed by not-Kurt's hands.  
  
"Kurt, I'm sorry. I was going to tell him I can't stay. I could never. And you're the main reason why," Blaine said carefully, and Kurt's brow smoothed out. "He's just ... you. And I never want to say goodbye to you." Kurt's lips twitched before he rolled his eyes.  
  
"Fine. Say your big dramatic, kissy goodbye. I'll be over here, not caring." Kurt crossed his arms and frowned, but Blaine had just been given permission to be dramatic so he was in too good a mood to care. He turned back to not-Kurt, who looked distraught. One of the hands on his face fell away, sliding down to cradle Blaine's lower back and pulling him closer in half-hug.  
  
"It'll be alright," Blaine said, patting not-Kurt's biceps. "Maybe not-Quinn will invent portal-post. Or our cell providers could branch out into parallel universes. You never know."   
  
"No, I guess not," not-Kurt muttered, before his lips were crashing against Blaine's in a kiss. It was hard and overly wet and entirely perfect, and Blaine clutched tightly to not-Kurt's arms as he was dipped back. It seemed to last forever, and if it weren't for the twinge in Blaine's back and the blood rushing to his head, he probably would have let it go on for a few more forevers.  
  
They slowly straightened, and took even longer to pull apart. Blaine's eyes reopened as he gave a surprised laugh. Not-Kurt smiled in return, patting Blaine's cheek fondly.   
  
"You know, I'm surprised you didn't grope me," Blaine said.  
  
"I was aiming for grand, romantic gesture," not-Kurt replied. "Thought your boyfriend might be more okay with that."  
  
"I was okay with it," Kurt said in a strangely breathy tone. When Blaine looked over, Kurt's cheeks were flushed and he was hugging himself tightly, awkwardly slumped. Blaine blinked, then shared a smirk with not-Kurt. Ooh la la.  
  
"I hate to interrupt your gay threesome --  _again_  -- but the portal won't last forever," not-Quinn said, bouncing baby Beth. "You better go all together."  
  
"Then this is goodbye for real." Blaine grabbed not-Kurt's hand, squeezing tightly, before pulling him into an impulsive hug. "Take care of yourself," Blaine whispered. "You matter. Also, kick your Finn in the balls for me."  
  
"Will do," not-Kurt said, pressing a small kiss to Blaine's cheek before pushing him away. "Okay, now get out of here before you losers ruin my awesome rep any more."  
  
"Bye," Finn said sadly as Blaine grabbed his hand and Kurt's. "You're the best Kurt ever, and I'll never forget you."  
  
"Hey!" Kurt snapped. The three of them were against the edge of the bed now, not-Quinn off to the side with -Kurt to give them room. "You have horrible taste."  
  
"Oh, I would say he tastes pretty good," not-Kurt said with a wiggle of his fingers. "Bye honeys."  
  
"Bye," Finn and Blaine said simultaneously, Kurt sniffing in annoyance, and then they were in free-fall and space and time were shifting and there was darkness pressing everywhere as they went down  
  
down   
  
down  
  
down the rabbit hole.  
  


xx

  
The last thing Blaine saw was not-Kurt smiling, so it was appropriate that the first thing he saw when they jolted back into place on a familiar bed was Kurt scowling. "I hate you all," Kurt said as he rolled off the bed, falling on the floor ungracefully. Blaine remained, feeling Finn shifting to his side as they both watched Kurt. "I'm going to go shower the stench of dumpters, affairs, bisexual stepbrothers and dimensional travel."  
  
"You'll need scented soap for that last one," Blaine said wisely. "It's got a sort of photon smell you just can't shake."  
  
"I'm not bisexual," Finn said. "I just like kissing. You have a great mouth dude."  
  
"Ugh," Kurt said. "I. Hate. You. All." He disappeared into the washroom, and Finn clambered off the bed as well.  
  
"Hey, we totally just skipped the day," Finn observed, squinting at the clock. "It's like, dinner time. Mom and Burt are probably worried."  
  
"Or they're taking advantage of the empty house," Blaine suggested. Finn quirked a half-smile.  
  
"No way dude, they aren't building fetishists." Finn said this sincerely enough that Blaine wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. He settled for shrugging and scratching his chest idly in reply.  
  
"Alright, go tell them we're alive." Blaine watched as Finn ambled off (taking a moment to pet the wall and fondly remark, _it's good to be back my wall_ ) and then stretched, wondering if Kurt would lend him some less-racy pants to wear home -- and speaking of Kurt ... Blaine shot a flirty look at his boyfriend, who had reappeared at the entrance of the bathroom.  
  
"Finn's gone?" Kurt asked, but didn't wait for an answer before he stalked forward and fell on top of Blaine -- ouch -- and began to kiss him fiercely. Blaine blinked but hey, definitely wasn't complaining. Kurt kissed differently than not-Kurt and Blaine wondered idly for a moment what would happen if the two of them kissed. Collapsing universes, maybe, but totally worth it.  
  
Kurt pulled back and dropping his head next to Blaine, fingers curled around Blaine's shoulder as he relaxed. Blaine began to stroke his back, curious as to what had inspired this. Then Kurt was sniffling and nuzzling closer to Blaine, and Blaine's heart clenched. "What's the matter babe?"  
  
He didn't get an answer right away, Kurt making an embarrassed huffing noise. "I'm just really glad you came for me. Blaine -- you didn't see his wardrobe. There were tasselled nipple pasties and G-strings and fringed pants and a whole row of things that I couldn't decide were sex toys or bold new broach styles. It was horrible, like his shopping was done by the stripper child of a glam rocker. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks."  
  
"Don't forget that not-Finn was trying to get into your pants, or the dumpster thing," Blaine said and rather nicely didn't add that he hadn't forgotten because Kurt still stank to high heaven.   
  
Kurt smacked Blaine (not so) lightly. "Thanks. Like my therapist doesn't already have a field day with stories of my boyfriend's delusional tendencies." Kurt's therapist thought Blaine was a future cult leader, and telling her about how exemplary he was at Dalton had only led her to believing that the Warblers were brainwashed. (Blaine's therapist found him a charming and engaging young man, but with risk of becoming a serial killer. Blaine didn't much like therapy.)  
  
"Not so delusional any more, am I?" Blaine asked smugly. "When I publish  _The Delicate Folds Between Worlds_  everyone will choose to believe."  
  
"Uh-huh," Kurt replied doubtfully, propping himself up so he could stare down at Blaine. "Now maybe I just have  _Man Hands_  on the brain, but that sounds like lesbian erotica."  
  
"Consider it an ode to not-Quinn," Blaine said. "It's that or  _I Kissed A Doppelgänger and I Liked It._ "  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes, dipping to kiss Blaine again. When they pulled apart again, Kurt's eyes were twinkling above flushed cheeks. "But the subtitle will be  _But I Like Kissing My Boyfriend More_ , right?"  
  
"Of course," Blaine said dutifully. "You're always number one in my book." Blaine's little black book, in fact, consisted of only Kurt's number since he had bitterly scratched out Jeremiah's and that cute lifeguard at the community pool who was now, in fact, dating Jeremiah. Blaine had had to resort to swimming in his private pool now due to the sheer awkwardness of that situation.  
  
"You're off the hook, but -- thank you." Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine's for a moment, then rolled over so they were lying side by side on the bed. Their hands naturally found each other, linking together. "For choosing me, for coming to get me, for saving me from that horror show of a closet. Everything, thank you for everything."  
  
"You're welcome," Blaine said softly. "Though I think I've got a lot to be thankful for too." He looked over at Kurt, who was smiling up at the ceiling. Kurt glanced over too, smile widening as he squeezed Blaine's hand. Blaine returned the gesture, heart warm.   
  
"You kids need anything? Some snacks? A condom?" Blaine jumped, looking over to see Burt standing in the doorway, arms crossed and expression amused. Kurt groaned, and Blaine tugged the blanket over his bare chest awkwardly. Burt gave a patented Hummel Look.  
  
"I told you I would snap the disk in two if you ever quoted that movie again," Kurt said, pushing himself up so he could better glare at his dad.  
  
"I got a VHS copy too kid." Burt shared a look with Blaine, who was sympathetic; Kurt's threat was a gross violation of good taste. "Considerin' me and Carole thought you three were up to something hanky up here, it's a valid question. Finn told us there was 'lots of kissing.'"  
  
"That's right. Finn's been paying us to make out in front of him so he can pick up some tricks that don't involve attacking Rachel ... or Quinn's ... face like it's a half-price burrito." Kurt got up off the bed, tugging at Blaine, who followed.   
  
"That why you kids missed school?" Burt asked, and Blaine froze, sharing a look with Kurt. Uh-oh.  
  
"Would you believe that we were in a parallel universe?" Blaine asked, using his most charming smile on an unaffected Burt, who was probably used to beguiling after being married to Kurt's elf mother. Crap, that's what he had forgotten to check while in the paraverse. He hoped not-Quinn put a rush on that portal-post.  
  
"No. I  _would_  believe that you were smoking drugs, with stories like that." Burt shook his head. "We're going to talk about this after dinner, Kurt. It'll give you time to figure out how to argue me down to a week grounding. Until then, come eat. Blaine too. You probably got the munchies anyhow."   
  
" _Okay_  dad."  
  
With that Burt left, and Blaine leant into Kurt. "Your dad is so cool," Blaine said with delight, and Kurt clucked his tongue sharply.  
  
"You're not allowed to tell anyone else that we went to a parallel universe. I've already got an ill-begotten reputation as a lush at school, I don't need my boyfriend becoming a stoner," Kurt sniffed.   
  
"What about my book?" Blaine asked, wounded. " _I Kissed a Doppelgänger_  is going to be a bestseller."  
  
"As long as the sub-subtitle isn't  _Based on a True Story_ ," Kurt said. "Then I might consider going out in public with you again."  
  
"So kind," Blaine teased, and Kurt shot him a look.  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, today was a one-off incident that we will avoid mentioning on a daily basis."  
  
"You never know, it could happen again." Blaine grinned. "Imagine everyone's faces if not-Kurt strolled in with his nipple ring and fuck-everyone-sexily attitude?"  
  
"Nipple ring." Kurt repeated grumpily. "They would probably all have spontaneous orgasms on the spot and pass out. Can we go eat?"  
  
Blaine headed for the door, pulling Kurt along gently. He knew he could be oblivious occasionally but he did get why Kurt was annoyed. "Sure. And that whole, not bringing this up on a daily basis thing works for me." Blaine shot a smile over his shoulder at Kurt.   
  
"Really?" Kurt relaxed. "That's sweet of you."  
  
"Just keeping the magic alive," Blaine said, giving Kurt his most meaningful look as they got to the stairs. Kurt smiled, then frowned.  
  
"Not literal magic, right?"  
  
Blaine remembered the sigils not-Quinn had drawn, the incantations she had muttered. He could name every spell used in _Harry Potter_  and  _Discworld_ , so remembering some magience was pie, easy as. Playing around with it would be useful, and it couldn't hurt ...  
  
"Of course not babe," Blaine said. No, it couldn't, as long as he had this, as long as he had his Kurt. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Blaine pulled Kurt into a sweet kiss, knowing everything was in its proper place.  
  


_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Hey, maybe there will be a sequel one day, who knows.


End file.
